


The Bloodstains on His Halo

by Payson_Blinde



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, All pairings are ambiguous, Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst and Tragedy, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Violence, Character Development, Dreams and Nightmares, Especially Delirious, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gang Violence, I pretend to know about medical stuff, Late Night Conversations, Mentions of Forced Prostitution, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of kidnapping, Multi, everyone has a story, inaccuracies also ahoy, mentions of torture, or at least bi probably, references ahoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-04-08 10:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14103762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Payson_Blinde/pseuds/Payson_Blinde
Summary: A sound rings through every concrete corridor. It echoes in the ears of every inmate and every guard, igniting fear in those it damns, warming those it treasures. Like a crow, he cackles in the night, the cry of a rugged creature that knows only cruelty or kindness. Atop his head sits the crooked crown of the king in orange, and by his side, his loyal company of criminals and incriminated. His name is a curse and a miracle.He is Delirious.Prison AU, including damn near everyone, whether on one side of the bars or the other. We spectate their lives as they endure hardships, forge bonds, pull some stupid shit, and most importantly, have fun. Most of the time.





	1. Night 1

**Author's Note:**

> This bit might not make sense at the moment. Apologies, just bear with me.

Night 1

It was bright. A room came into focus in slow motion, as if there was all the time in the world to make out every crevice of the ceiling, dripping in soft, white sunlight. There was a subtle, kind breeze that whispered through the room, breathing cool life into his body.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” came the smooth, quiet voice, like the clear, gentle tide that prods the sand to awaken from its dry, dormant sleep. Her hand rested against his forehead, warm and sinless.

Her face, simple and pure, emerged steadily from the corner of his vision, her eyes glimmering like pools of rich honey, with the tender patience of that fabled mother, who was more angelic than she was human.

This memory was ancient. Archaic, even. He hardly remembered it when he was awake, but he knew it must have happened; he only dreamed of real things.

This was one of the very, _very_ few dreams that he could control. He couldn't change the sequence – he couldn't have her appear from a different corner, or have her say something different – but he could go back, and he could repeat this dream as many times as he'd like. He could slow it down until it didn't seem to be happening. He could pause it when she smiled, and just watch her, just let her fill his vision for a while. And that was all he needed, and he made use of this minuscule power every time he could grasp the chance. He treasured these moments like nothing else. Not just because of the rarity of this scene, but because every time he had this dream, he knew exactly where he would wake up.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious returns to the prison.

“Hey. Hey, wake up.”

Something poked his side. He squeezed his eyes closed and gave a distressed whine.

“Shh,” he insisted, and went to cover his eyes with his arms, only jerking them against the metal handcuffs behind him.

“Get up. You're being moved.”

He let out a huff. “Five more minutes?”

“You've been asleep for fourteen hours, get up.” the voice demanded.

Slowly he came to crack open his eyes, and the white florescent lights he'd gotten to know so well came screaming into his sleepy gaze.

“C'mon. Don't make me pull you.”

He gave a wide grin, “You wouldn't.”

“You're in handcuffs, big guy. Not so scary now.”

He opened his eyes all the way. He threw himself up onto his feet, agile as a cat – flashed a smile – and threw his foot hard into the officer's plump gut, sending him stumbling backwards to lean against the bars, trying to catch his breath. Three officers came sprinting around corners and into the cell, pushing him down to the ground. He couldn't quit smiling, even as he bared his teeth up at the guards pinning him, clashing his jaw as if to bite their noses.

“Stop fucking around, someone taser the bastard!” someone was shouting.  
Suddenly his side was on fire, and his body jerked and spasmed, and his vision flashed red and green and he almost managed to be reminded of Christmas before it all went black.

\--------

A young officer unlocked the holding cell, keeping half an eye on the lanky man in an off-white straightjacket, who stood a little too close for comfort, breathing down his neck just because he knew he wouldn't do anything about it.

“Delirious, good to see you again. We missed you.” The man sitting behind the counter had stern eyes, but his cheeks twitched in what might have been a smile if he were alone.

“Aw, I know you did. I just couldn't stay away.” Delirious replied, backing off the young officer and showing off that big, toothy grin that was somehow friendly and malicious all at the same time, making his way into the cell.

“Yeah, yeah.” the gruff old man called, picking up an orange jumpsuit and walking over to the holding cell. “I've got it.” he muttered, much to the relief of the tentative young officer, and started to pull off Delirious's straightjacket.

“Alright, gear up.” the officer grumbled, holding out the jumpsuit to Delirious, who gave a quiet 'that's what I'm talking about' and took it up like it was a semiautomatic.

He pulled his stained grey t-shirt over his head and looked hopefully up at the officer. “You guys still got my hoodie?”

The officer's mouth couldn't resist a pull to the side. “Yeah, we got it. Send it over at lunch for ya.”

“Thanks,” he chimed, the smile now taking on an element of childish innocence. The officer looked at it for that moment like it was a rare and precious sight, before it disappeared under the fresh white shirt, and re-emerged the smile of a madman.

“That cook still here? The guy with the nose?” he asked.

“Nah. Nah, you scared him off good.” the officer grunted, leaving the cell and closing it behind him.

Delirious cackled as he pulled off his jeans. “Got what he deserved, sayin' a guy doesn't get dinner just cause he dropped his fuckin' tray.”

The officer gave a heavy sigh. “There was more gauze to his face than... you know, face. A little overkill, don't you think?”

Delirious shrugged, zipping up the jumpsuit and beginning to run in place. “Wasn't even me, most of it. You lay one punch on a guy and suddenly everyone wants a piece of him.” he replied through quick breaths.

“Uh huh. And that's why you only got another six months, eh?” the officer questioned, starting to write something down.

“That's right!” he answered happily, and started doing jumping jacks.

The young officer was looking nervously from the older guard to Delirious. The guard frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Gettin' warmed up! Gotta get ready, get pumped!” he chirped.

The officer rolled his eyes, standing again. “Forget it, I'll take him.” he grumbled, and unlocked the cell. “Let's go, then.”

The guard walked Delirious down the hall, into the Raccoon block, walking through rows of darkened cells. It started with a low, “Hey, king's back in town!” and from there it was all kicking cell doors and whoops and wolf whistles all throughout the block, Delirious making shallow bows and loud cackles, shouting things like “That's right, bitch!” and “Y'all motherfuckers miss me? Huh?” all the way to his cell. The guards didn't even try stopping them.

The officer unlocked cell M52. Another man in orange was sitting on one of the two stained spring mattresses, looking at Delirious skeptically. Delirious walked in, saw him, and immediately looked back at the officer.

“What the hell, man? What happened to the owl? M52's his cell!” he demanded as the door closed.

“Evan was transferred. Causing some trouble, spending some time in maximum security.” the guard huffed, putting his hands in his pockets.

“What?! That's bullshit!” Delirious raged, and pounded on the black metal. “You put him back in here or Imma cause some fuckin' trouble!”

“Can't do that, Delirious. And knowing you, you'll overshoot it and end up in solitary.”

“Don't you fucking challenge me.” he snarled.

The guard knew to tread carefully. “It's not a challenge, buddy. Just some advice. You'll see your friend in the yard. Mean time, maybe make a new one.” he offered, gesturing to the small man who'd since pulled his legs up and leaned against the wall.

Delirious glared at the officer for a moment, then spat on the ground and turned away. The officer made a silent prayer of thanks as he retuned to the office.

Delirious turned on his heel and faced his cellmate, who watched him with careful brown eyes. Delirious grinned and slapped his shoulder.

“Hey man, I'm Delirious.” he greeted cheerily.

The man gave a small, white smile. “I'm Lui.” he answered. “You're kinda famous, aren't you?”

“Boy, you're new.” Delirious cackled, taking a seat on the other mattress. “What're you in for?”

The little smile grew. “Armed robbery,” he answered, and the words were slow and full of pride, like a title he wasn't quite used to giving himself yet. “You?”

Delirious gave another laugh. “Anything that wouldn't put my ass in maximum security. Thank fuck for the hierarchy rule or whatever, right?”

If Lui was confused, he didn't show it. “So who was that other guy? The – uh – owl?”

Delirious's grin morphed into a smile that was almost – almost – sentimental. “Ol' Evan, that bitch. Had that bed before you did.” he answered, pointing at it.

Lui glanced over the mattress as if to find some trace of him. Then he looked back up. “What's the nickname from?” he inquired.

The grin was back. “Well, you ask a guard and they'll say it was 'cause he's always up late. But that's bullshit. Real reason is, the guy could get outta anything, got outta this cell 'bout every night. Never tried to escape or nothin', just stole pudding or cookies or whatever shit they were giving us. Stocked 'em up in the cell and distribute.” he explained. “We wanted to call 'im Houdini but you know, that's kinda suspicious as fuck. So we called him owl.” Then he laughed, and in a voice that wasn't quite his, as if impersonating someone, said, “Cause owls go 'hoo'!”

Lui snickered. Delirious thought for a second, then stood up suddenly, saying, “In fact...” and walked toward the corner of the room. With an “Aha!” he dug his fingernails into a crack in the concrete wall, and lifted away a broken-off piece, revealing a small gap where three pudding cups sat, slightly squashed but tempting all the same. Delirious glanced over at the cell door, then grabbed two of them and carefully replaced the cement piece. He passed one of the plastic cups to an impressed Lui.

“Bitch didn't put any spoons,” Delirious complained, but his grin betrayed his glee.

The two sat there, watching the cell door tentatively for guards, turning the plastic cups inside out to get the last bits of chocolate.

“So what's your nickname from?” Lui asked.

“Delirious ain't a nickname, if that's what you mean,” he replied, licking the plastic like a cat.  
“What? Like that's on your birth certificate?” he laughed.

Delirious reciprocated with a smile, but this one was little off-balanced and not quite genuine. “Doesn't need to be on my birth certificate to be my name,” he answered, his voice going low.

“I mean, like, your legal name isn't Delirious, is it?” Lui kept asking, completely unaware of the rapid change in atmosphere.

Delirious suddenly deemed the plastic worthless and crushed it in his hands, staring down Lui with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “It's my name, man.”

Then Lui got it. He was quiet for a moment. “Oh. Okay. Sorry.” he muttered, his voice very small.

Delirious found it difficult to stay mad at him. He tossed the plastic garbage toward the corner of the room and wiped his mouth, and that grin was back again. “Hey, no worries.”

Lui let out a breath, relieved. Delirious shifted backward and leaned on the wall, peering at him. “So you new. How new?” he inquired.

Lui rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, about a week,” he answered quietly.

Delirious folded his arms behind his back, flashing teeth. “About nothin'! How many days?”

Lui scrunched up his mouth, not looking at him. “Four...”

Delirious threw himself forward and held his stomach. “Ha! Four days, you just a baby! You meet some friends yet?” he asked, like he was a little boy at his first days of kindergarten.

“I mean... not – entirely.” he answered, a bit of honesty creeping in.

“Whaddya mean by that?” Delirious asked. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh fuck, I know what happened! It was that guard, wasn't it? Brock?”

Lui averted his eyes, fiddling with the fabric of his jumpsuit. “Yeah,” he muttered quietly.

Delirious laughed, slapping his knee. “I fuckin' knew it!” Then he frowned, and his voice took on an odd sincerity. “Nice guy, isn't he? Always looks out for the noobies. Even managed to get me out of trouble a couple times.”

Lui grinned, nodding, relieved again that his lone friendship with a random guard wasn't quite as pathetic as he thought.

“Yeah, yeah,” Delirious rambled on, “He's great. But Imma introduce you to some of my boys – the owl and all them. But listen, somethin' you gotta know – I asked you 'cause you're new and you dunno better and I was curious. But you don't ask people why they're in here, alright? Their business.” he explained quite seriously.

Lui nodded obediently, and Delirious nodded back. “Okay, good. Never too interesting, anyway. All the really good stories are up in max sec and solitary.”

“What, so you don't have a really good story?” Lui blurted, and immediately regretted it.

But Delirious just grinned. “Man, I know the system. I play it. That's why I'm not up there with 'em.” Then he giggled. “Well, that and they ain't even found the worst of it yet!” and his laughter was like something out of a horror movie – it reminded him a bit of a crow feeding on a corpse, and a bit of a serial killer who could never get enough. For a moment, Lui prayed that whatever god there was would have mercy on him, and he would never have to sleep in the same room as this man.

The laughter dulled down to a chuckle, and he topped it off with a, “Nah, man, I'm playin'.” But from the look in his eyes, and the shine of teeth that bled through his smirk, Lui had the distinct feeling that he was not 'playing'.

A sort of blaring crunch echoed through the halls – some crude excuse for a bell – catching Lui off guard, but Delirious hardly seemed fazed.

His eyebrows raised and he licked his lips, like a hyena spotting a cub. “Lunch!”

The cell door opened mechanically, and a little too slow for Delirious, who tapped his foot incessantly until there was just enough room for him to he squeeze himself out. Lui felt compelled to follow him.

“Alright, let's go find those fuckers!” he giggled, and began pacing through the halls, passing briskly through the orange blobs, leaving Lui to scramble behind him.

The cafeteria was already filling up despite their undeniable speed. Delirious was scanning the room making little 'um um um's before he got a hell of a smack to his arm.

“Delirious, the fuck are you doin' here!” the man laughed, but it was hardly a question, throwing his arm over his neck and yanking his head toward him.

“Can't breathe, Tyler!” Delirious squawked.

Tyler let him go with an embarrassed, “Sorry,” but Delirious just grinned and shouted, “Yeah fuckin' right, get over here!” and threw himself at him in what started off as tackle, and quickly watered down to a bearhug.

“Alright, alright, get the hell off me,” Delirious laughed.

Tyler chuckled and released him, Delirious giving him a light punch to the chest for good measure, before a shout found his ears.

“Delirious! Get your _bitch_ ass over here!” came from a man standing on a table on the other side of the cafeteria.

“Off the table, Evan.” a guard was grumbling.

The man made one more big, beckoning wave and jumped down, while Delirious began shoving people out of the way to find him.

Two other guys stood up from the same table and surrounded Delirious, mauling him with punches and wide grins. They broke it up, muttering and jeering about getting sloppy and being “such a lucky bitch”, Delirious and one of them going through the motions of some ridiculously intricate handshake that ended in a warm hug before something seemed to ring in Delirious's ears, and he suddenly turned on him.

“Evan, you son of a bitch! Fuckin' mad at you!” Delirious shouted, and full-on headbutt him in the chest – remarkably mindful not to hit his stomach. 

“What? Why?” he laughed, and smacked his back.

“Fuckin' bitch, we could'a shared a cell! What you do?” Delirious pouted, standing up straight and shaking his shoulders.

“No fucking way, really?” he cried, and threw his hands up. “Someone told Brock about the shit.”

_“No._ Someone fuckin' snitched on you?” Delirious demanded. “Who? Who knew?”

“I dunno-” Evan started to say, but Tyler cut him off.

“Bull _shit,_ man. It was that cock-sucking motherfucker, the short one. Always hanging around Nogla.”

Delirious threw his fist into his open hand, looking like he was about give a pep talk before a big game. “Look, we ain't havin' that shit. Where is he?” and started looking around.

“Hold up, man, don't do it now or you won't get your reception visit.” Evan warned him.

_“Fuck,_ you're right.” Delirious sighed. “Okay. But we can't let him get away with that, alright?”

They gave affirmative murmurings.

“I didn't think Brock would actually do anything about it, though...” Evan pondered.

“He's a guard, man, he's gotta do his job,” Delirious reminded him with a sigh.

As Evan was muttering a 'Good point', Delirious finally remembered the silent and unsteady man behind him.

“Oh right! Guys, this is Lui, my new cellmate thanks to _some bitch ass!”_ he suddenly shouted, and then turned back to Lui with kind eyes, patting his shoulder. “Kidding, man, you're great. Anyway y'all play nice, Imma find a phone.”

“Wait, wait,” Evan called, tugging Delirious's sleeve. “You bring those puddings I left?” he inquired.

Delirious brushed him off with a grin and a “Psh. Ate 'em.”

“What! All three?” Evan cried.

“Nah, only two. What, you want the last one?” he asked.

“Hell yeah I do, I worked hard for those! Got re- _homed_ for them!” he complained.

“Bitch, you ain't a lost puppy!” Delirious answered with a grin. “I'll give it to you tomorrow.”

“Well I'm in max sec now, Brock's only let me out now to say hi.” Evan sighed.

“Well I guess it's mine now, ain't it?” Delirious chuckled.

Evan let him go with a low “Bitch,” and Delirious made his way out of the cafeteria and into the halls to find a phone. With a small prayer, he typed in his PIN. He smiled – still had some credits from last time. He dialed.

“You kiddin' me, Delirious, this number?” was the first thing he heard - that friendly, all-too-familiar scolding.

Delirious cackled. “Yup. You're gonna visit, right?”

“Course I will, you gotta ask? What do you want from the vending machine?”

Delirious thought for a second. “Somethin' sour. Think they'll have some Sour Patch Kids or somethin'?

“Maybe... Second choice?”

“Reese's.” he answered definitively, like he'd never been more sure of anything in his life.

“Alright then. See you tomorrow. And fill out the fuckin' form this time, alright?”

“Look, man, I don't do paperwork!” Delirious whined.

“Yeah, well, I can't get in without it, so next time you want some fuckin' Reese's it's comin' from your own sweat.”

Delirious managed to sigh through a toothy grin. “Alright, alright. See you, Luke.”

“See you.”

Delirious hooked up the phone and stuffed his hands in his pockets, a relaxed and easy joy radiating off of him as he moseyed back toward the cafeteria.

“Delirious!” a voice called from behind him. He glanced back and grinned.

“Brock!” Delirious cheered.

Brock quickly looked behind him, and spoke quietly. “Delirious, c'mon, you know you can't call me by my first name. I'm an officer.”

Delirious just rolled his eyes. “Bullshit, even Lui calls you that.”

Brock sighed and put a hand to his forehead. “Really? How did everyone find out?”

Delirious shrugged. “Dunno. Definitely didn't have anything to do with a packed lunch,” he snickered, and then with an element of what might have been something like endearment, “Your wife must like you a lot.” and Brock's face flushed red. Then very quickly, the grin faded. “And don't you think I didn't see that!” he suddenly cried, pointing to a beige package Brock was half-heartedly hiding behind him.

Brock rolled his eyes, trying to wiggle his toes in his boots to get the blood away his face. “Yeah, yeah. Do you want it now?” he asked, and Delirious nodded vigorously.

“Yes yes yes! Gimme!” he giggled, clapping his hands, and tore it open like a birthday present. He pulled out a vibrant blue hoodie.

“Aw, y'all washed it!” he noticed giddily as he pulled it on.

“Well, we couldn't have you wearing it covered in...” Brock started trailing off, continuing awkwardly, “...whatever that was.”

Delirious didn't bother filling him in. He spread out his arms and look down at himself, happy as a child.

“Thank goodness I didn't put this in with it.” Brock chuckled, glancing down at the utterly destroyed package, and held out a very formal-looking paper toward him, with the words 'Visiting Order' written in bold across the top. Delirious's grin was very temporarily replaced with a pout.

“Nooo, not that stupid thing...” he wailed, not touching it.

“Well, if you want Luke to come back after your reception visit, he's gonna need it filled out. I can help you with it, if you want..?” Brock offered.

“Yes! Perfect! Tomorrow.” he insisted.

Brock nodded. “Sure. Maybe after Luke leaves?”

“Yeah, for sure. Thanks, man!” Delirious answered happily, and held out a fist. Brock looked like he thought it over about three or four times before tentatively meeting his fist. Delirious immediately answered by making a “Pfff!” sound and pulling his whole body back in a dramatic 'explosion'. Brock watched the performance in silent respect, perhaps startled but more amused.

Delirious gave another chuckle, and pushed open the cafeteria doors. He entered with a wide grin, the hoodie wrapped around him like a suit of armor, or the robes of the wiry and undisputed king of the 21st Century.


	3. Night 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious dreams.

When they returned to the cell, he hadn't meant to fall asleep. He really hadn't. But he did, and now he had to pay the price.

Night 2

Unsteady, unsure, and small. A kindergarten class – his first day. He didn't need to look down to know that in one hand, he clutched a plump stuffed bear, and in the other, two fingers of his mother's hand.

Delirious hated this memory, as he did most of them.

A plain room, with big white desks, footed by the small heads of confused, wary-eyed children.

He could hear them already. He wasn't supposed to. This wasn't in order.

“He has a teddy bear.”

This wasn't right, this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. A tall woman approaches – yes, the dark floral dress, Delirious remembers this. His mother was kneeling down and kissing his forehead. Delirious felt a little calmer; order was being restored. Her face didn't look quite right – too old for the time, her hair was darker then – but still, it brought him some peace, even as the whispers grew louder, off cue.

“That's weird.”

She said kind words that sounded a thousand miles away, or as if she were underwater. Delirious squeezed her fingers. He couldn't make her stay. He tried to, like he tried every time – tried to slow down the dream so that he'd never have to turn around, and she'd never have to leave – but this just wasn't that kind of memory. He wasn't in control.

The tall lady was speaking now in low, monotonous pulses. Powerless, Delirious watched his tiny feet shuffle him to the back of the room, and pull himself clumsily into a chair. He held his bear tight to his chest.

“Mama said I couldn't bring my bunny.” That's when the floodgates opened. Like roaches out of hiding, the voices squirmed to life.

“You're not supposed to take toys to school.”

“What a baby.”

“That's a stupid thing to do.”

Louder and louder. They were hardly whispers anymore – they were shouting in his ears, too loud to hear the tall lady begin to clap, though he knew that's what happened next. Delirious's face became buried in the soft head of his bear, and for the hundredth time, he wished for it to be over.

The scene around him shrank away but the voices remained. The rest of the year was told in flashes, and he knew the order like the back of his hand: a little girl's mouth utters the word 'creepy'. A chair is pulled from under him and he topples to the floor. A grubby hand grabs his lunch bag and bolts out of sight. A boy grabs his collar when he tries to run away, and a pale red burn crosses his neck. A hundred glass eyes stare him down, and he could feel their reeling minds make up all the terrible things to say to him today. He crawled up a tree, holding his bear tight, just waiting for them to find him.

It was almost over.

The ending scene: his teddy bear, smashed into the mud, fluff spilling out of its torn seams and beaten brown and black, a black button eye nowhere to be found, its kind little smile ripped into disfigured, unsalvageable misery. For all the clutching of his tiny, quivering fingers, he couldn't protect him. This was Delirious's first failure.


	4. The Fate of a Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious proves his crown.

Delirious sat in a small, silent room, on a little stool he wished for the hundredth time would spin, under the careful gaze of a guard who felt oddly terrified and privileged by his assignment this afternoon. Delirious drummed his fingers to some sporadic, non-sensical rhythm on the steel tabletop. 

After a few minutes, the door across the room opened, Delirious's eyes filling with a particularly innocent brand of joy. The man who walked in bore a shaking bearded head, a knowing smile, and two shiny packages from the vending machine outside. He took a seat.

“Swear to god, man.” he was either commenting or scolding half-heartedly as he tossed the two narrow items on the table: Sour Patch Kids, and Reese's. “You got _so_ lucky.”

Delirious grinned, mischief strolling through his gaze. “Course I did. You know peanut butter and sour is the shittiest mix on the planet, right?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Wasn't counting on you mixing 'em. But wouldn't put it past you – _nothing's_ off the table.”

“Damn right,” Delirious confirmed, and ravaged the Reese's, shoving the first cup into his mouth and throwing himself back in his stool, only held up by his knees, giving an animated, _'Mm!'_ of appreciation. Eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head, and pounded the table.

Luke chuckled. “That good?”

Delirious was either rocking his head forward and backward in a manic fit, or nodding.

He swallowed and held his breath for a second, as if capturing the Reese's-flavored air in his mouth, then gave a contented exhale. “Good _shit.”_

“Can't tell if you're eatin' it or making sweet chocolatey love to it.” Luke teased, as Delirious licked his teeth.

Delirious's face returned to that irrepressible grin. “Well, we got an audience this time.” he cackled, jerking his head toward the guard.

As the two laughed, the officer ran his fingers over his taser. Luke didn't miss it.

“Everything alright, officer?” Luke inquired, with an aggression covered by just enough courtesy to maintain innocence. Delirious turned around to look at the glaring man.

“Not at all.” the officer muttered. 

Delirious raised an eyebrow. “Lookin' a little tense, my man. Somethin' the matter? Little too much spotlight for ya? It's a fucking joke. Can't taking a fucking joke?” His voice grew more and more vicious with every word.

Luke was making quiet 'sh' sounds, fully aware of the steep, _steep_ slope their rickety car approached.

Delirious heard him. He had to literally bite his tongue. He twisted back around to face Luke, glaring at the table like a child denied his favorite video game, or an addict turning down a fix. Luke watched his every feature carefully, reaching over to put a hand on Delirious's. Two of Delirious's fingers clamped onto his palm and squeezed life out of it.

In the silence, the door opened again. The guard walked past, and was quietly replaced. Another tense second passed, and then Delirious slowly came to release his hand. Luke knew from experience that it would bruise.

Delirious wiped his nose. He gave a forced chuckle. “Whatever.”

It took a bit for the ease to return to the room. Eventually, the old rhythm was back, Luke talking about what a cute shit Delirious's dog was, and Delirious telling him all about the little brat Lui who might just turn out alright. Luke was given the duty of holding onto the Sour Patch Kids for next time, and couldn't help but notice Delirious saving the final Reese's cup. Sooner than they thought, the thirty minutes had passed, and the newly-stationed guard informed them that their time was up.

“Come around next week?” Delirious requested.

“You get me a VO and I've got no excuses,” Luke replied with a smile. The two stood up and came together for a warm and familiar hug.

Luke didn't miss Delirious snatching the last cup and furiously chomping it on the way out. The iron door opened, with the previous guard standing in the hallway. Delirious looked up at him and gave a shiny, black, chocolate-coated grin. Luke watched the guard's face twisted in disgust and turned away before stifling a laugh and showing himself out.

Delirious and the second guard walked through the halls, Delirious sucking his teeth, reveling in the sweet taste of Reese's and petty revenge. After a moment, he realized they weren't going to the yard.

Delirious smacked his lips. “We goin' to talk to Brock?” he asked.

The guard frowned. “Brock- oh. Yes. You really shouldn't call him that,” he murmured, unsure of whether it was a good idea to say.

Delirious just huffed. “You ain't gonna change the minds of every damn guy in here.”

The guard decided not to press his luck, and escorted him the rest of the way in silence.

He entered another small, steel-themed room and sat down beside Brock. As Brock neatly printed Delirious's information onto the yellow paper, Delirious focused instead on balancing his stool on its back two legs, giving automatic answers to his questions until he was completely tuned out, like a little boy in math class. A moment later he leaned back a little too far, flailing his arms toward the table as Brock quickly reached over and pushed the back of his chair up. 

With all legs back on the ground, Delirious gave a cackle. “You're a damn lifesaver!”

Brock couldn't help a small smile, and turned back to the paper. “Okay, and what's his address?” he asked.

Delirious frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “Don't remember... It's either 1503 or 1505.” Then he shrugged. “It's whatever mine is.”

Brock peered up at him curiously. “You two live together?”

Delirious just snickered. “Yeah, sure. One way of sayin' it.”

Brock shifted uneasily in his chair. “Okay... I can look that up for you.” Brock made another few marks on the paper and put down the pen. “Alright, that's it.”

Delirious put his hands in the air, and cheered, “Yard time!” wishing again the stool would spin for effect.

“Yard time indeed,” Brock replied, and his feeble attempt to suppress the chuckle in his voice was a testament to that infamously infectious happiness.

Brock walked Delirious out to the yard, where he immediately found four familiar faces gathered around a basketball hoop, tossing around a faded orange ball, one a little more tentative than the others. As soon as the handcuffs came off, he all but sprinted over, like a child released for recess.

“Hey, finally made it!” one of the men called, holding the ball under his arm to slap Delirious's back.

“Don't fucking hog it, Craig!” Tyler complained.

Craig passed it to him, muttering, “Jeez, yourself.”

Tyler caught it and threw it at the hoop, bellowing a low “Kobe,” as it fell through the dull metal net.

“Just not the same without the owl,” Delirious sighed.

Tyler rolled his eyes. “What, miss your boyfriend?” he teased, and threw the ball toward Delirious.

The other man suddenly lunged forward and snatched it from the air.

“Brian, you little bitch, that was mine!” Delirious cried, grinning as he launched into action. The game was back on.

About ten minutes into the game – by which point it was pretty clear Tyler had no 'casual' mode – Lui asked a question. “What's that?” he inquired, pointing at two bright red circles in Delirious's side, where his shirt rode up.

Delirious glanced down. “Man, if you wanted to know about every damn mark on me, we'd have to take a fuckin' _seat.”_ he cackled. “But nah, that one's from this hoochie I was with a while back, real freaky. Had a thing about blood. Must be contagious – can't hardly go a week without gettin' a gulp of some of the stuff.” he replied nonchalantly, just to watch Lui's smile fade and face go a little pale. Delirious laughed. _“Kidding,_ it's from a taser.”

Lui was only slightly assured. “Why were you tased?” Lui asked, somewhere between too nervous to ask and too curious not to.

Delirious gave a little “Psh,” catching the ball and passing it to Brian. “Plenty of guys workin' the system you'll never see again. May as well have a little fun with 'em, right?”

Lui made quick glances between the four of them, hoping someone would give some kind of sensical explanation, but they continued the game unfazed.

A minute later, Tyler suddenly grabbed the ball and pointed toward the back of the yard.

“There's the damn snitch!” Tyler snapped.

“Well yeah, Nogla's on duty, course he's hanging out back there.” Brian grumbled.

Delirious got on his toes to peek over the crowds. “Where? I can't fuckin' see 'im!”

“Oh, right.” Tyler took a knee, giving Delirious a boost as he muttered something about tall-ass bastards, using Brian's shoulder for balance.

“Alright, fuck it,” Delirious growled, and stepped down. “Someone give me something. Somethin' sharp.” he demanded, holding his hand out.

The three of them stared at Brian. He sighed and reached into his pocket. “Just... don't lose it.” he murmured, and gave him make-shift glass knife.

“Thanks, man.” Delirious examined it for a second. “You ain't never used it?” he inquired.

“Haven't had a reason to,” Brian answered.

“The fuck you need a reason for?” Delirious cackled, then he elbowed Lui. “Kidding. You only use this when the fucker's earned it, yeah?”

Lui nodded quietly. 

“Alright. Y'all stay here, this guy's mine.” he ordered, and started through the crowd.

Reaching the other end, he approached the short man leaned up against the fence, making feeble conversation with an officer on the other side.

“Hey, little man. Lookin' kinda lonely. Wanna play some basketball?” Delirious offered, his voice unnaturally kind. The inmate turned from him to the officer, unsure.

“Delirious,” the officer warned.

“C'mon, Nogla. Little guy's not too popular with the guys around here, he could use a friend!” Delirious replied.

Nogla looked at him skeptically. The short man made the decision himself. “Sure, okay.” and walked with Delirious, who threw an arm over his shoulder.

As they entered the crowd, Delirious began talking. “So, you know my buddy the owl? Good guy named Evan Fong? Bit of a sweet tooth, sound familiar?” Delirious asked, his voice dangerously low.

The man looked over at Delirious, his face paling. He started trying to pull away from Delirious, but with a vice grip, Delirious yanked his head down, holding him in what was nearly a chokehold. 

“Yeah. Bad fucking idea.” he growled in his ear. Completely immersed in the crowd, Delirious grabbed the knife from his pocket.

Spotting it, the man freaked. “Loo-Look, I'm sorry, I just – I need to get outta here, I've got a family, they need money.” he sputtered.

Suddenly Delirious showed genuinely interest in the man's life, as if not holding a blade to his throat, asking “Oh, really? What's your job?”

“I'm a cook,” he answered quickly, confused and terrified.

“Oh! Well no worries man, there's a whole side of TV for you.” he replied cheerfully, and before the man could ask, Delirious slashed the knife across his face with deep, purposeful cuts.

As he started to scream, Delirious wiped the knife briefly on the man's shoulder, and threw him into another orange blob. The burly man he fell into turned around and shoved him away, into another inmate. Delirious took a step back, putting the knife in his pocket and watching for a moment as the prisoners played a game of hot potato with his shrieking body, blood pouring from his eyes.

“Alright, gimme him.” Delirious ordered, and the movement halted. He grabbed the guy's arm and dragged him out, back toward where Nogla was sprinting into the yard.

“Nogla! Nogla, he's bleeding, you gotta help him!” Delirious cried. Nogla, exasperated and angry with himself, pulled the man out of the yard and toward the infirmary as he screeched, “I can't see, I can't see!”

Delirious watched them leave, and then turned back to the inmates, approaching them with a wicked grin, making his victory march through them - “Good shit,” “Bitch was rattin' on everyone.” “Well done, man.” - until he emerged on the other side, beaming like a kid on the honor roll.

Brian, Craig, and Tyler sprinted up to meet him, Tyler picking him up like nothing and swinging him around, hollering, “Fuckin' _show_ that bitch!”

Delirious cackled, spreading his arms in the air. “Dare the fucker to snitch now!”

Lui approached slowly, torn between the urge to throw himself into the celebration, and that to book it in the opposite direction.

\-----------

Lui could hardly sleep. He tried to focus on something that reminded him of home, something that would calm him down, but he couldn't focus. He couldn't shake the thought that beside him, there lay a man in a blue hoodie he wasn't really supposed to have – a man who had so casually blinded a man in the yard and would get away with it. For the millionth time, he tried to shake the thought. He just had to focus on the good things. All the rest of the guys: Tyler, Brian, Craig, Evan – the whole lot. They were good people. ...They didn't even try to stop him.

Lui swung his legs off the mattress, dizzy for a second before getting himself to stand. He refused to look for any length of time at that man, laying there only a foot away, all four limbs latched onto a brick of a pillow, murmuring something incoherent in his sleep. He had the distinct feeling that a glance exceeding half a second in his general direction would undoubtably wake him.

Lui looked around the room. He needed something to distract himself – something quiet. He made the bed, silently fitting the sheet neatly around the corners of the solid mattress, fluffing the pillows (with little success), and laying the cover delicately over the top. He started putting things in places they'd never been designated but seemed appropriate, organizing what few items there were until they reached a certain level of meticulous neatness that would never again be achieved by subsequent attempts to clean the room.

He glanced at the clock. It was 3:06 am. He still wasn't tired.

He heard footsteps from outside. He instinctively lowered himself and held his breath. The dark shadow of an officer stopped right outside the cell.

“Lui?” a low voice whispered. He didn't recognize it. “C'mon over here, I know you're up.”

Lui tentatively shuffled toward the door, only half-standing for fear of waking Delirious.

The voice chuckled. “Don't worry, he's out cold. First week or so, the guy sleeps like a rock. It's after that you have to be careful.”

Loui stood with a bit more confidence, still stealing cautious glances at the little bundle of blue, but it didn't budge.

“I'm Nogla. You doin' alright?” the guard asked.

Lui gave a shrug, and looked unconsciously back at Delirious.

“He's a handful, in' he?” Nogla sighed.

Lui was suddenly much less cautious. “I mean, can I be moved or something? The guy's insane. I mean, he-” Lui had to catch himself before he accidentally sold him out. If nothing else, he learned that was a _bad_ idea. He shook his head. “He's just... He's kinda scary.” he admitted.

Nogla sighed and leaned against the wall. “I dunno, I might be able to. But listen – I know it's freaky now, but a lot of guys would kill to be where you are. And not just cause he's popular – cause he makes friends easy, and he takes care of his friends. Thing is, he's probably the scariest guy in here, but you get close to him and he'll never touch you. Trust me, buddy – that cell's gotta be the safest place in the whole prison.”

Lui averted his eyes, chewing his lip. “Doesn't _feel_ safe.”

“You're the new guy. He'll take pity on you, show you the ropes, keep you out of trouble. Seen him do it before. You know, I been working this job almost ten years, and all the guys in here are scary in their own ways. That's why they're in here. His way is just easier to see. But that makes it easier to work around.” Nogla explained.

Lui was quiet. Nogla tilted his head and asked, “Sound okay?” his voice kind and understanding, like a father assuring a child that it was all just a bad dream. Lui gave a small nod.

Nogla waited another second, then stretched his arms high above his head and let out a long yawn. “Alright. Get some sleep, kiddo. That guy's a little messed in the head, but you're perfectly safe from 'im. If you're still feelin' weird about it next week, we can see about gettin' you moved.”

With that last bit of comfort, Lui turned away and lay on his bed again. Maybe... _maybe_ he'd be okay.


	5. Night 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious dreams of the day he met Luke.

Night 3

Delirious watched a small hand making doodles on the side of a paper. It was supposed to be a bird. It was about the shittiest-looking bird he'd ever seen, but he loved it, because it meant he was having _this_ dream.

“Do I need to separate you boys?” the teacher was demanding out of his vision. “Luke, go sit in the empty seat.”

“But I wasn't talking!” came the whine.

“Move.” There was some muttering and a chair was shoved out of the way. Then the teacher spoke again. “Take your stuff.”

_That's_ when the whispering started. It was because the only empty seat was next to Delirious; the silent couple no one could care to complete.

Delirious's eyes didn't move from the paper as the little boy, Luke, plopped himself spitefully into the creaky seat to his right.

He remembered that he definitely did _not_ expect to hear him speak again. But he did.

“What's that?” he asked, and Luke's hand appeared in his concentrated vision to point at the bird. Delirious felt himself jump and whip his head around to look at Luke. He was silent, he just stared. Luke was just as confused.

“What is it? Tell me,” he insisted.

Delirious blinked. His head turned to look back down at the paper. “'S a bird.”

“A bird?” Luke questioned, leaning toward it as if to get a better look. “Why isn't it flyin'? Is it a chicken?”

Delirious shook his head. He could feel that childish confusion in an abstract, distant sort of way. “No, it's just...” his voice trailed off.

“It's just what?” Luke asked.

“It's a – uh... It's a pet bird. 'S in a cage.” he explained feebly, and started hastily drawing in the flimsy wiring of a cage around the bird.

“Wha... Why's it in a cage?” Luke asked, confused and perhaps even offended by the idea.

Delirious just shrugged. Luke clicked his tongue and started drawing on his own paper. Delirious watched curiously. He was drawing a bird – pretty shit, too – that looked like it was about to fly off the page. Then Luke put down his pencil victoriously, and picked up the paper to show him.

“There. _That's_ a bird.” Luke declared.

Delirious tilted his head, and then nodded slowly. “I like it.”

Luke gave a proud grin. “Pretty great, right?”

The teacher turned around to face them with a sigh of exasperation. “Luke, as much as I _love_ that you're making new friends, if the two of you don't get quiet, we're going to have a talk outside.”

Luke huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

Delirious's eyes, meanwhile, returned to his drawing. He remembered comparing the two birds in his head, picturing what kind of sounds they made, what they did all day. The more he stared at his, then back at Luke's, then his – the more he realized, he liked Luke's bird a lot better. He frowned. His could fly. It wasn't _trapped_ in there, it could fly just fine.

He turned his pencil around. He started erasing the wires, and drew in a new pair of outstretched wings that were entirely too big for the tiny bird. He made the legs bend and opened the mouth, like it was screaming into the paper.

He glanced over to see Luke watching the whole production, nodding, and then giving a thumbs-up. Delirious grinned. Like a movie on the highest fast-forward setting, Delirious watched the two of them spend the entire day adding little details to their birds. Delirious added some clouds, and the circular scribbles of a forest canopy beneath. Luke drew hills into the background, and some 'horses' – a couple clusters of circles and sticks, really – scattered across them, with a sun that seemed to take up the majority of the sky. Delirious wished he could just stay and watch them spend the rest of the school year turning their math sheets into seven-year-olds' masterpieces, but sooner or later, he had to wake up.


	6. The Ropes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious guides Lui in the ways of the prison.

At the cold crunch of five o'clock, Delirious's eyelids came to a sleepy ascent, vision slowly clearing to see Lui's legs hanging off the side of the bed, his body fallen off to the side and face planted into the mattress, like he'd fallen asleep sitting. He didn't seem to be moving.

Delirious rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up, yawning. “C'mon, man. Breakfast. Breakfast,” he was muttering. Somehow he felt more asleep this morning than the last. It took him a second to remember what had happened yesterday – then he smiled to himself. He always did sleep like a baby when he had a clear conscience.

“Lui. Lui, swear to god, man. C'mon, food. Eggs. Maybe. There might be eggs. I don't-” he paused for another long yawn, “I don't really know.”

Lui made some kind of low groaning sound. His voice slightly muffled by the mattress all but stuffed in his mouth, he whined, “Do I have to go?”

Delirious frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “That's a good fuckin' question...” he wondered. Then he shook his head, like a dog drying himself off. “But food. C'mon.” He hulled himself onto his feet and grabbed Lui's arm, pulling it. Lui groaned in response, but one more tug and he was convinced to attempt standing.

Delirious watched, chuckling. “You fell asleep like that? Your back must feel like shit,”

If Lui had been a bit more awake, he might've been surprised at this expression of sympathy. But he wasn't. “Yup.”

Delirious had to more or less drag Lui to the cafeteria. Upon opening the doors, Delirious seemed immediately disgusted, making some kind of snarl at the entire room. Lui didn't have time to question it before Delirious spotted the rest of the guys, and pulled him over to the table.

“No fuckin' eggs. This is what I get for quitting kitchen duty. I gotta do somethin'.” Delirious growled, and stalked away.

Lui watched him go, wondering if he was off to start a revolt or go to the bathroom. “Where's he going?” he asked.

Craig shrugged, cutting up a plastic-looking sausage. “Who knows.”

Brian frowned. “He oughta be signing up for a job, right?” and took a bite of an ambiguous square substance that was cleverly disguised as bread.

“Ah, that's true.” Craig realized.

Brian nodded to himself, swallowing. “Probably gonna call Luke first, ask him what to go for.” He seemed to only be half kidding.

“Don't think they'll let him back in the kitchen?” Craig inquired.

“Fuck no. Some asshole is still convinced he's got a stash in there, I can guarantee it.” he answered.

“A stash?” Lui asked, intrigued.

Brian just rolled his eyes and let Craig explain: “So, there was this whole deal with some douche-face guard leaving a flask or something in the cafeteria. At the time, it was just Delirious and this other guy – Bruce?”

“Bryce,” Brian corrected, and took another bite.

“Bryce. It was just the two of them working in that bit, so everyone was trying to figure out which one of them was smuggling alcohol. They were about to pin it on Bryce, but Delirious told them it was him.”

Lui frowned. “Why'd he do that?”

“I guess they were buddies in there. And I think Bryce's mom was in the hospital or something and he was about to get out? Something like that. Just couldn't take the extra time.”

Brian suddenly burst. “And they fucking _knew_ it wasn't him! They tore his cell to shreds looking for jack shit! Even Nogla said it couldn't have been him; it wasn't enough to sell, and the fucker doesn't even drink!”

When Brian went back to eating his food, with a little more ferocity this time, Craig continued. “Anyway, yeah. Someone high up probably just wanted to get the thing done with, so they blamed him and he got an extra couple months or whatever to his sentence. Wasn't a big deal for him.”

“Still, the _principle_ of it...” Brian was grumbling.

“Except now he can't work in the kitchen. Kinda sucks for him.” Craig answered. Then he frowned. “You gonna eat something, or..?”

“Not hungry,” Lui answered, leaning his face on his hand.

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you might want to. You look like you might _actually_ be dead.”

Brian didn't even look up before saying, “Yeah, go eat, kid.”

Outnumbered, Lui rolled his eyes and obeyed, with a quiet mumble of “I'm not a kid,” that neither of the guys caught.

By the time he got the front of the line of grumpy, shuffling giants, received his suspiciously-shiny breakfast on a styrofoam tray that made this horrible sticky, squeaking sound whenever he moved his fingers, and came back, Delirious was already sitting.

“So how long's the owl gonna be in?” Delirious was asking, taking a bite of the dark substance Lui could have sworn was Brian's – and judging by the longing look in his eyes, it was.

Craig shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe a week – they only know he got out once.”

Delirious nodded. He swallowed and put the rest of the block back on Brian's tray. “Full,” he declared.

“How are you full, you hardly ate anything!” Lui laughed.

Brian put a furious finger to his lips and wolfed down the rest of it. Delirious just shrugged. Then, he suddenly looked over at Lui with wide eyes.

“Hey, you gonna work, right?” he asked.

Lui blinked. “Like, a job in the prison?”

Delirious nodded with a little, “Yeah. Yeah.”

Lui thought for a second. “I guess...”

“Okay good! Follow me.” he ordered, and set off, leaving Lui to hustle out of the chair and around the table to keep up.

“Where are we going?” Lui questioned once they made it out of the cafeteria.

Delirious glanced over at him like he was delusional. “Getting a job, course.”

Lui figured he probably should have put that together. “Well yeah but – what kind of job?” he added, as if that somehow excused his previous obliviousness.

“Dunno. Heard the library might be cool.” Delirious replied.

“Didn't know there was a library,” Lui muttered. That might've made the first couple days a bit more tolerable.

“Me neither!” Delirious exclaimed, more than twice as surprised.

“So what do you do in there?” Lui asked.

“I dunno. Heard some rumors about running. We're gonna find out.” he declared.

“And you get paid for it?”

“We fuckin' better!” Delirious cackled. “Credits though, not cash.” Then he giggled, shaking his head. “The fuck did you do all day without us?”

Lui really didn't want to answer that question. “You know – just... hanging around.”

“Yeah, with Brock?” Delirious half-teased, reading his mind. Lui couldn't think of an intelligent response, so he was glad when he kept talking. “Yeah, that bitch a good guy. But that ain't no way to get through here. You'll end up like that one motherfucker.” he spat. He looked over at Lui, his gaze suddenly wild and intense. “You flaunt your shit all you want, but you don't mess with people who ain't askin' for it, alright?”

Lui nodded quietly, even though he had no idea what that meant.

Delirious shook his head. “Man, we take care of our own. But there ain't no excuse for goin' out and shittin' on someone who never did nothin' to no one. You wanna go bash some heads in, you may as well get thanked for it.”

He suddenly stopped in his tracks, grabbing Lui's arm, and his voice was more serious than he'd ever heard it. “Listen. There ain't a lot that's pretty out there. World's a fuckin' shitty-ass place. So you see kindness, you see something that never did nothin' but sit there and be a little pretty – you don't _touch_ it. But you protect that shit like it's the only thing you got.” His fingers clenched into his skin, “Cause it's the only thing in this whole world of motherfuckers that makes it worth it.”

Lui nodded quickly. Delirious stared at him for another second, and then released him. Lui stopped himself from rubbing his arm, despite the ache.

“Alright, let's go get fuckin' paid!” Delirious suddenly exclaimed, but that casual glee was struggling to form in his eyes as he began to skip down the hall, leaving Lui in the dust, wondering what had just happened – and what the _fuck_ had happened to Delirious.

Upon reaching a small office door seemingly misplaced in the long, otherwise vacant grey hallway, Delirious quickly looked over at Lui.

“Uh, little warning – this lady's kind of a fuckin' bitch,” he informed him quite seriously, “so I'll do the talking, 'kay?”

Lui gave a small “Alright,” and Delirious threw open the door, wailing with either immense distress or relief, “I'm home!”

A pale, elderly woman sat still behind a spotless metal desk, thick glass separating her from the rest of the room. She glanced up at Delirious with dull grey eyes and watched, unmoving as he approached.

“Alright, lady, I need a job.” Delirious declared.

The woman looked down at one of her papers, and drew her lips into her mouth before beginning, “Well, what kind of job would you like? I can see your name here...” she observed, “...and it looks like you're still off the list for kitchen duty.”

She glanced up at him, but Delirious didn't respond. His glare deepened, hands clenching into fists.

The woman looked back down at the paper. “Fortunately, we do have several more options for you.” she began to explain, and she seemed to spend a little more time on each syllable than it really required.

“We have groundskeeping, laundry...” she began to list.

Delirious crossed his arms. “Sounds boring.”

She glanced up at him, watching him intently. “Well, I'm afraid they're not meant to be very entertaining.”

Delirious chewed his cheek, his eyes narrowed. “I want the library.” he demanded.

The woman met his eyes for a moment, and just stared at him. Delirious didn't budge. Eventually, she hulled her gaze back down to the paper. “Alright, we have some space available.” She licked her lips slowly, and continued, “I'm sure you know by now, it'll take until noon to get you cleared, and then you can head over after lunch.”

“Course I know that,” Delirious spat.

Slowly, slowly, with a shaky wrinkled hand, she came to tick his box. “Alright, that's fine.”

Delirious suddenly jabbed his finger into the glass with a low _thud._ “Lui too. In the library.”

The woman stared at him for another moment, and then shifted her gaze over to the nervous Lui. “Do you want to work in the library, too?”

Lui nodded. The lady turned back to the paper, scanning through the names. “And that's Lui _Calibre,_ is that right?”

“Yeah,” Lui muttered, perplexed by the icy glint in Delirious's eyes.

The woman gave slow looks at the two of them, but eventually made the mark. As she did, she continued to speak in a low voice. “And-” she seemed to swallow her words for a moment before beginning again, “you'll have an appointment with Dr. Kateb this evening. Maybe something to look forward to.”

Delirious's mouth twisted through about five different expressions, lips sewn shut before he whipped around and pushed Lui out the door.

Once outside, Delirious looked like an action movie character on mute. He balled up his fists and threw up his head, his mouth wide as if about to scream, but no sound came out. He looked like he was going to kick the down office door before he suddenly threw his foot instead into the adjacent wall, with perhaps enough force to break a few toes. Lui watched silently, completely baffled but definitely, _definitely_ sensing rage.

Delirious grabbed Lui's jacket and hustled off with him to the end of the hall. Then, releasing him, he gave a loud snarl. “God, I hate that _bitch!”_ he growled, though the harshness of it compensated for the noise. Lui could tell he was trying not to explode.

“Every time, every _fucking_ time she's got some bitchy-ass comment to make and every _fucking_ time I can't do shit about it! I could smash that bitch's head into the desk and plunge those pencils into her eyes and make a smoothie from her fuckin' _brains_ but _no!_ Look, look-” he suddenly took Lui's shoulder, “The higher up they get, the more an asshole they become. Anyone in admin, anyone with paper, anyone who's got _one fuckin' thing_ to hold over your head, you just won't hear the end of it! Cause they got an _army_ waitin' back there to take you out, and there ain't nothin' you can do about it, and that means they can do whatever the _fuck_ they want with you.” He poked Lui's chest hard. “That's why you trust the li'l guys. You trust the li'l guys, and no one else. Cause they won't be your best friend, but they ain't got _shit_ on you. And that's what counts.”

Delirious wasn't looking at him anymore. He took a few steps in some random direction, just pacing. He seemed to be thinking for a moment. Lui watched him, amazed and astounded. He tried to think what could've possibly happened back there to get him so riled up. In that office, watching from the sidelines, all that he saw was a man simmering with anger and imagining all the ways he could kill the patient, rusty, _scared_ woman behind the glass. Someone's sweet little grandmother who'd never hurt a fly. But he knew better than to question it.

Lui tried to change the topic. “Who's Dr. Ka- whatever?” he inquired.

Delirious threw a his hand in the air dismissively. “Another fuckin' asshole. Thinks he's got you all figured out cause he got a couple pieces of paper.” Delirious turned his head toward the ceiling with a sigh. “Nah. Nah, he's not as bad. Cause'a him I'm not strapped to a table somewhere.” He glared. “Doesn't make him nice, though.” Then he turned to Lui with a wide, cruel grin. “Makes him _scared.”_

Lui didn't have time to question it before he kept talking, shaking his head. “Kiddin'. Nah, that guy's not scared of nothin'.” His eyes seemed to brighten. “And he'll put me on some kinda program, and program people are nice.” he seemed to reminisce, and then glared again. _“Still_ an asshole.”

Delirious quite literally shook the thought off, and set his eyes back on Lui. “Alright, lunch's about over. Back to the ol' coon can.”

Lui blinked, following Delirious as he began taking long strides back the way they came. “Isn't that like – kinda racist?” he questioned.

Delirious stared at him, astounded. “It's the Raccoon block, man, chill! You got somethin' catchier?”

Lui laughed, tempting that simple, easy smile back onto Delirious's face. The man threw a bony arm around Lui's neck and mussed his hair, cackling to himself and saying something like “Li'l bitch!” Lui hardly bothered fixing it.

Sure enough, it was only about a minute before the hourly crush of speaker static arrived. Delirious spent the trip back to cell M52 telling Lui little anecdotes about the guys – like the time Evan and Brian reenacted a fight scene out of Batman and got an extra three months each – “So yeah, Brian's basically useless in the dark.”

Delirious flopped down onto his mattress, which all but sprung him right back up. He let out a huff. “We got fuckin' _ages.”_

“Four hours.” Lui confirmed, taking a seat on the bed.

Delirious stared at the ceiling for a second. Then he clicked his tongue and swung his legs back around to face Lui.

“Let's get started then!” he chimed, and jumped to his feet. Lui instinctively pulled his legs in as Delirious began doing jumping jacks.

“What are you doing?” Lui questioned.

“What, you never seen these before?” Delirious laughed through jerky breaths. “Called warming up. C'mon, let's go, get up!”

Confused but intrigued, Lui rose.

“C'mon, you gotta catch up now!” Delirious insisted. Lui could hardly refuse, and began jumping alongside him.

“Faster, we ain't got all day!” Delirious ordered, and Lui was sweating in no time trying to match Delirious's pace.

“Switch!” Delirious suddenly cried, and began running in place. Lui was caught off guard but followed along all the same.

“Alright, stretch it out,” Delirious instructed, snapping instantaneously from running to leaning over one knee, reaching toward the door. They alternated between a few different positions, until Delirious suddenly proclaimed, “I call the bar!”

Lui was still recovering from the most impatient warm-up he'd ever experienced. “Huh?”

Delirious pointed upward. “You know, the bar.” Lui followed his finger up. He remained baffled until Delirious rolled his eyes, and jumped up to grab a sturdy metal bar that must've been part of the ceiling. Lui hadn't even noticed it, it blended in so well.

“Did you just, like, _know_ that was there?” Lui asked, taking a dizzy seat on the bed as Delirious was already beginning a pull-up.

“I mean, I guess. There's always one.” he puffed. Lui just stared as Delrious continued hauling himself up and back down again, impressed that his skinny arms could actually support his weight.

Eventually, Delirious caught him staring. “Lui, c'mon man, I know I'm sexy.” But he couldn't keep a straight face throughout the sentence, and dropped down to laugh.

Delirious straightened up to see Lui eyeing the metal bar apprehensively. “Give it a shot,” he offered.

Lui just chuckled. “Nah, that's...” He shook his head. “Nah.”

Delirious grinned, punching his shoulder lightly. “C'mon, what you scared off? I already _know_ you're weak as fuck!” Delirious laughed. Lui smiled and held the back of his neck. Delirious grabbed his arm, insisting, “Get up, get up get up get up,” until the words lost their meaning and melted into a series of clicks.

Eventually, Lui gave in and stood, and Delirious gave a small whoop. Lui jumped up to grab the bar. His hands burned immediately.

“How high am I?!” he demanded, panicking.

Delirious giggled. “Like maybe a foot off the ground. But put your hands closer together, that kind's for the professionals.”

Lui tentatively shifted one hand toward the other.

“Okay you moved it like... _not_ even an inch.” Delirious laughed.

“Well yeah cause I'm gonna _fall!”_ Lui cried.

“So what?”

_“So_ I don't wanna _fall!”_ he snapped.

Delirious shook his head. “Okay, okay, come on down real quick.”

“Like just-”

“Just let go, you'll be fine.” Delirious assured him. “Legit _one foot_ off the ground.”

Lui's fingers twitched, but wouldn't budge.

Delirious grinned and gave a little “Alright, alright,” and wrapped his arms around Lui's legs. “Now let go.”

Lui managed to release the bar, and Delirious lowered him carefully to the ground. Lui let out out a breath and examined his red palms. 

“Alright, now watch real quick.” Delirious ordered. When Lui looked up, he jumped and grabbed the metal bar again. “Now look at my feet, alright? 'Bout how far are they from the ground?”

Lui stared for a second. “Two feet,” he muttered, though he knew even that was an exaggeration.

“Somethin' like that.” Delirious released the bar and plopped back onto his feet. “Nothin' fatal, yeah?”

Lui nodded silently. Delirious smacked his shoulder. “Alright. All you.”

Lui grabbed the bar, a bit too embarrassed now to worry about the height. He hauled himself up with all his strength, going red in the face until he could touch about the center of his forehead to the cool metal.

“Nice, nice. Take a breath.” Delirious reminded him. Lui gave one more surge upward, and could just about get his chin to touch if he looked up. Then he relaxed his arms, and gave a shaky exhale. He couldn't convince himself to try another, and let go. ...It really wasn't that high.

“Good start, man. Short break and give it another shot. Do ten or somethin' and you're good.” Delirious suggested.

Lui looked up at the bar, cursing it briefly. “You got dibs,” he reminded him, rubbing his hands together, dulling the pain but adding to the heat.

Delirious shrugged. “Yours now. I got other stuff to do.” he replied, as if the exercises were chores.

Delirious set himself up on the floor, beginning a series of push-ups, careful to leave some space where Lui was likely to fall.

After about a minute of dead silence, aside from the heavy, compressed breaths from the two of them, Lui suddenly shouted, “Oh my god, I did one!”

Delirious rolled over onto his back, a tired grin splayed across his face, but his eyes as bright as they ever were. “No kiddin', really? Nice fuckin' job!” he cheered, clapping. Lui giggled to himself, trying unsuccessfully to cover his pride.

“Finish that set and that sucker's mine!” Delirious declared.

The two took turns on the bar for what Lui felt like ages. Eventually he collapsed on his bed, watching from the corner of his eye as Delirious continued to throw himself into his vision and fall back out. It was only a few minutes until even watching exhausted him, and he covered his eyes with his sleeve.

“Do you _ever stop?”_ he grumbled.

Delirious chuckled. “Nah man, these are fun. Everything else sucks.”

Lui shook his head under his arm. “It all sucks.”

Delirious didn't respond. Lui, some mixture of curious and concerned, pushed away his arm to see Delirious rolled up into a little blue and orange ball, still holding onto the bar, suspended in the air like a bouncy ball on pause.

Lui couldn't bring himself to ask, but just let out a huff of exasperated laughter. Delirious took a moment to simply ponder the ceiling, like he might have been wondering how the plumbing worked, or what it would take to detonate it. Then he curled in on himself further, dropping his legs to regain a more humanlike position, only to quickly ball himself up again and begin a dizzying cycle of flips.

Lui just shook his head and covered his eyes again. It was quite a while before he heard the _thump_ of his feet returning to the floor.

Lui felt like he had something to ask Delirious. Of course, that was probably always true – nothing about him really made sense. It took him a bit to remember, by which point Delirious had begun doing lunges across the cell floor.

Lui felt like he had to spiral in on the topic, but he wasn't sure how to, and he wasn't sure if that would even help – so he trashed that plan and went for bluntness. “So... who's Luke?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

Delirious glanced over at him with a look Lui hadn't seen before. He was reading it as 'calculating'.

“Guess the guys mentioned 'im?” he questioned. Lui nodded. Delirious gave a 'huh' and looked forward again, continuing to put one foot in front of the other, touching the wall, and swiveling around on his heel to go the opposite direction.

“Who is he?” Lui asked again.

Delirious sucked in his bottom lip, chewing it for a moment. “Guy I know.” he answered.

“Like, a friend?” Lui inquired.

He took another moment to respond. “Sure.”

“And you call him?” Lui pressed, unknowingly.

Delirious continued gnawing his lip, and just nodded, giving a little 'mhm'.

“Like, every day, or-?”

Delirious suddenly looked over at him and threw a finger to his mouth, his eyes wide as if Lui had just threatened to scream 'Bomb!' in an airport. Despite his apparent urgency, his voice was calm as he answered, “Sometimes, I guess,” jerking his head to the right.

Lui frowned, confused. He just opened his mouth to ask when Delirious pressed his finger  
more fiercely to his lips, then mouthed, 'They can hear you'. 

Lui tipped his head back with the realization that all the inmates around them were sitting silently in their cells, with nothing better to do than eavesdrop. But Lui's curiosity could hardly contain the question of why Delirious should care. These guys respected the fuck out of him – what was the harm in talking about Luke?

Delirious immediately dropped to the floor and began hauling out push ups at an unprecedented speed, a deep glare drawn across his face. It scared Lui – it was a lot like the expression he'd worn while he was containing his utter rage at the old lady in the office, but this time it was different. This time, the inner-most edges of his eyebrows were tempting to creep upward, and it gave him an expression of not only anger, but undeniable fear.

Lui felt the itching need to bring up a new topic of conversation.

“What can you use credits for, anyway?” he asked. He wasn't sure if he was actually curious. He just had to say something.

“Loads of stuff.” was Delirious's immediate response, but then he suddenly tucked in his legs and twisted around to sit, leaned against his bed, and his eyes were thoughtful. “No, not really loads. Phone calls. And there's a shop, got candy and stuff. And cigarettes, if you're there early. Tyler mans it.” Delirious held his legs tight. “But that's not really why you work. I mean that shit's great and all but if you're not workin', you're sittin' in here an extra – I dunno – seven, eight hours doin' nothin'.”

Lui nodded. “Yeah, that's boring as shit.”

Delirious pulled himself to stand, stretching his arms high above his head. “No kiddin'. Dunno how you managed it for four days without goin' crazy.” Then Delirious frowned. “Didn't you wanna call someone, or somethin'?”

Lui shrugged. “I dunno. Guess it didn't feel real. But yeah, I want to.” He drew his gaze down to the bed, the question plummeting him into the past. “My mom.” he murmured, hardly aware that he said it out loud. Lui was half-expecting Delirious to grin and say something about missing his mommy, but he just nodded, slow and solemn. And his eyebrows were trying to reach upward again.

“You should. Can't let go of that.” Delirious told him gravely. Then he brought up his hand to wipe his mouth, and blinked his eyes back to sense. “You know, only thing that keeps you sane 'round here.”

Lui kept a careful eye on Delirious as he plopped himself back onto the mattress. After a moment of silence, which Delirious spent blinking very rapidly, heavy footsteps approached the cell, and Delirious shot up to sit, watching the cell door with a small smile making a steady return to his face. Lui felt obligated to sit up, although unsure about what was happening.

A familiar figure appeared behind the gate.

“Hey, you two.” Brock greeted them.

“How's it going, man?” Delirious chirped, waving as if he were a mile away, and Lui raised a hand in a mild 'hello'.

“Just – uh – making sure you know about your appoint-”

“Yeah, yeah, ol' French face.” Delirious huffed.

“Yeah. After dinner,” Brock reminded him.

Delirious nodded, pulling in his knees, tapping to a jerky rhythm with his toes. “Can't fuckin' wait.” he muttered, in a voice that was a little too small to be intimidating. After a moment, his eyes suddenly shot up, and a childish smile gasped his features.

“You've got something! What is it, show me.” he teased.

Brock looked down at his hand, where he held what might've been a folded piece of paper.

“I'm – uh – not supposed to give it to you yet...” Brock murmured, unsure, but that only peaked Delirious's curiosity.

“It's for me? What is it? Show me.” he insisted a bit more seriously, shifting to the foot of the mattress.

Brock watched the paper for another moment, as if perhaps it would give him some advice. But Delirious continued his pestering, making little noises of “Come on come on come on” as he rose to his feet and stood in front of the gate.

Brock wiped his mouth briefly, perplexed. Delirious sat back down and gave a small smile. “You don't have to, you know. You can wait or whatever you gotta do.” Then he raised his eyebrows, keeping his eye on the paper. “But I really fuckin' wanna see it.”

Brock sighed and unlatched his radio from his belt with a defeated, “I'll ask,” and took a step out of view.

Delirious dropped himself back onto the bed, throwing his limbs into the air either in excitement or a seizure, with a high-pitched, “Whooooo!”

A moment later, Brock stepped back in front of the door, fiddling with his keys. “Doc says you can have it now,” he replied, unlocking the door. Delirious jumped up to grab what was apparently an envelope.

“Awesome, thanks man.” Delirious replied, his voice calm and surprisingly genuine. He analyzed the envelope for a moment. His eyes widened. He looked over at Brock. “This is-?” He turned to the envelope, then back. “You weren't gonna give this to me?” His voice was quiet – he sounded betrayed.

“Dr. Kateb thought he should give it to you.” Brock explained.

Delirious nodded, understanding – Brock gave a quiet sigh of relief.

Delirious took a seat on the squeaky mattress before beginning to open it, which he did with utmost care. Lui and Brock watched him, careful but interested, like a good movie that was too real and too dangerous to thoroughly enjoy.

The letter was handwritten. Delirious read through it, frowning at first, then smiling, then frowning. Then his eyes widened. He began blinking very, very fast – then he put the paper down. He turned his face away from the gate, staring at the wall.

There was silence. A small part of Lui was itching to ask – but the majority of him told him to stay put. This was Delirious – and it wasn't his place.

Delirious came to smile, but wouldn't shift his gaze from the grey crevices of the wall. Then he glanced back at the paper, and then up at Lui. He waved the paper up briefly, and mouthed, “My sister.”

Lui raised his eyebrows. “What happened?” he asked.

Delirious looked back down at it, and chewed his nails. “Gettin' married.” He was silent for a moment, then continued more quietly, as if he wasn't entirely aware of it, “...Not gonna be there.”

More silence. Lui sat, overly aware of his own breathing, unsure whether to do something, say something – he felt like Delirious might be calm now, and maybe he should go sit next to him, try and say something reassuring. But he'd never once been right about Delirious.

Brock cleared his throat quietly. “Lui, come on out, I need to talk to you about something.”

Lui looked quickly between the two of them, but Delirious continued to stare at the paper, and Brock was moving his head toward the hallway. Lui extracted himself as silently as possible from the room. Brock walked him down the hall in silence and through one of the doors toward the visitation rooms.

A silent moment later, Lui asked, “So what's up?”

Brock shook his head. “Oh, nothing. I just wasn't sure what he was going to do.” Lui blinked. He didn't want to think about the possibilities.

Brock noticed his paleness. “Don't worry, he's pretty good at containing himself. It's just a precaution.”

Lui wasn't feeling very assured. After all, the first time he saw Delirious, he looked like he was trying to kick down the cell gate because it was Lui sitting there on the bed and not Evan. The only time he was able to keep himself under control was in the office, when he knew there were countless guards ready and armed nearby. So as far as Lui was concerned, 'containing himself' didn't really seem like a specialty of his.

“So, he's got a sister?” Lui asked. 

Brock shrugged. “Guess so. His information is passed around on a sort of need-to-know basis. He doesn't like it when people have too much information on him – even out in the real world.”

“Really?” he laughed.

Brock nodded, smiling. “Yeah, he doesn't show his face around town much when he's out. Every time he's arrested, they've gotta tear a mask off him for the mugshot. But you always know it's him – it's always the same kind. The guy must have a million.” Then he chuckled, “Well, that and the laugh.”

Lui grinned. It truly was trademark.

He shrugged. “But yeah, I guess he's just a private person.”

Lui shook his head. “I mean, there's being private, and then there's...” He trailed off, not even sure how to describe it. Brock understood regardless.

“So, can he get a pass for the wedding?” Lui asked.

Brock rubbed his neck. “I'm not sure. The policy is that we can only give a temporary release if a family member is dying. He's on sort of a watch-list, so administration probably wouldn't want to risk letting him off the grounds, even under supervision. But I'm sure there are staff members who would want to work something out for him.”

“So he might go?” Lui inquired, curious about the specifics.

“I don't really know. It'll be up to Dr. Kateb and the therapist.” Brock explained apologetically.

“Why didn't you say something? That he might be able to?” Lui questioned.

“Well, I don't want to get his hopes up – then someone will just have to let him down.” He gave a quaint smile. “He's like a kid, you know – it's kinda better to just let him expect the worst than have to disappoint him.”

Brock opened one of the frosted-glass doors of the visitation rooms. Lui leaned across the table while Brock put himself stiffly on the adjacent stool, unsure where to look.

Lui waited for a moment, unsure whether to talk or sit in silence. He cast a glance over at Brock. He seemed equally troubled.

“So... How long should we wait?” Lui questioned.

Brock looked down at his watch.

“Honestly, I don't really know. We've never really had to give him letters or news or anything, so I'm not sure how he'll react. I've seen him in quite a few moods, but... never sad.”

“Really? I mean, like, never?” Lui asked, surprised.

Brock frowned. “I don't think so. If he does, he covers it up. But usually he'll get mad instead, and then act out.”

“Shouldn't they have put him in one of those programs, you know, for people like that?” Lui critiqued.

Brock tightened his lips, unsure. “Yeah, I would've thought... But I guess not. I dunno. I never got his file.”

Lui's eyes widened, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Wait, you read everyone's files?” he cried.

Brock quickly shook his head, putting up a hand. “No, no, only the people we think are gonna make trouble. It helps us deal with them, usually – but we only got pieces about Delirious. Just that he's a regular in the prison, and you can't put him in lockdown, but he's better if you're nice to him. That's all any of the guards know.”

Lui raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, can't put him in lockdown?”

“Well, when someone really acts up, we usually seclude them somewhere – their cells or solitary. But we're not supposed to do that with him.”

Lui propped himself up, intrigued. “Why not? What does he do?”

Brock shrugged. “I dunno. But it was an old psychiatrist's note from a juvenile detention center, so we take it pretty seriously. They actually moved a couple guards out of Raccoon block because they didn't think they'd handle him well – that's why Nogla and I are here.”

“Oh. Replacements?”

Brock nodded.

Lui took a moment to stare at a wall, digesting the information. Brock pulled his radio off of his belt and asked Nogla to check up on Delirious, to which came the staticky response of what sounded like, “Yeah shore.”

“So wait, then how are you supposed to punish him?” Lui asked curiously.

“Usually we'll take away credits or whatever luxuries he's bought for minor incidents. If he really messes up, we take away visitation rights for a month or so, or we don't let him work for a while. His sentence his usually gets extended as well.”

“Got it,” Lui answered idly, thinking. “And people don't, like, get jealous?”

“We've never heard about it,” Brock replied, considering it. “I'm pretty sure Delirious can do no wrong for the guys around here. They just like him too much.”

“Why's that?” he inquired.

Brock gave a smile that was on the shaky border between uncomfortable and bitter. “Well, he takes out his anger in ways that... make other people happy.”

Remembering the way the prisoners all but crowd-surfed Delirious back to the group after he blinded the snitch, Lui wasn't surprised.

Brock's radio went made that classic important-cop-message 'psht' and a voice reported, “Yeah, he's okay. Back to jumping jacks.”

Brock gave an “Alright, thanks” and stood, Lui following. “Means he's summing up some energy,” Brock translated, smiling.

Lui nodded, believing it. They resumed their march through the dull grey halls in silence, and Brock left him back with Delirious, who'd since moved back to lunges, pausing to let him in. He looked at Lui with a wide grin. Lui could just barely see the outline of the letter folded and tucked into his pocket.

Delirious didn't ask what he and Brock talked about, and thank goodness – Lui had forgotten the clever lie he'd drafted the moment he entered the cell.

“You want the floor?” Delirious asked.

“Bar,” Lui decided, glancing up at his old nemesis.

“Alright, all yours. Don't, you know, knock yourself out or somethin'.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Lui replied with a small smile, and Delirious cackled, plopping himself onto the ground for an endless cycle of crunches. And the threat had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hostile Attribution Bias is where you perceive people to be more threatening than they are.
> 
> I didn't make up 'coon can', I promise! It's from an old GTA video (as was Brian and Evan reenacting a fight from Batman)!
> 
> Kateb is the name of the Doc from Rainbow Six Siege.


	7. Skittles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's lunchtime.

By the time the arrival of lunch rang through the Raccoon block, Lui had vowed he would have nothing to do with thin metal rods in the ceiling for the next three years. But neither he nor the chuckling Delirious believed him.

Again, Delirious had to all but drag Lui to the cafeteria, all the way hastily listing what may have been _every single_ product sold at the prison shop, and raving that how he would _kill_ for some Skittles.

“It's, uh, sugar energy – blood. Blood – sugar. Somethin' like that. Dunno. Need that shit though!” he was shouting at no one in particular, Lui too exhausted to keep track of his winding train of thought.

Delirious body slammed the doors, throwing them open hard enough to bounce back at him, but he charged through before they could dare retaliate. Powering through he crowd, both he and Lui all but collapsed onto the chairs surrounding the table where Brian already sat, suddenly pulling his tray a little closer.

“You guys okay?” he asked, partially concerned, but mostly amused.

Lui groaned and left the talking for Delirious.

“Never fuckin' better!” Delirious suddenly shot up to say, eyes bright and suddenly full of life. “Need food though. Need food.” He poked Lui's arm, a condensed orange bundle that shrank away from his prodding in exasperation. “C'mon, you gotta go get food.”

“Not hungry.” Lui grumbled.

“It's not for you,” Brian explained around a bite of something pale and mushy.

Delirious cackled. “That's a damn lie! You gotta eat, you a growing boy!”

“I'm thirty-two.” he growled, picking his head up to glare.

Delirious seemed to take a punch to the chest. “What! Thirty-two?!” he cried.

Lui just rolled his eyes and plopped his head back onto his arms.

Delirious quickly returned to poking him. “Well you still gotta eat! We're gonna do the library after this, you – you're gonna need energy!”

After the third poke, Lui knew it wasn't about to stop. He threw himself back, praying to the ceiling lights for mercy. “Fine. Come on,” he sighed, hauling himself to stand.

“Oh. I don't get food.” Delirious told him.

Lui frowned. “Why not?”

“Cause he's got the stomach of a fuckin' squirrel.” Brian muttered, and took a sip of water.

Delirious chuckled. “Yeah, they give me too much. Just pick up an extra bread for me, yeah?” he asked.

Lui stared at him another moment, but Delirious's steady, hopeful gaze told him that he wasn't about to explain further, so Lui took that as the cue to leave.

As he was approaching the serving table, Lui was carefully watching every other prisoner's plate as they lumbered or lazed or swaggered back to their tables – all of them only had one piece of bread. How was he gonna take two? He was coming up with places where he might be able to stash a second when he heard a familiar voice snap from the front of the line, “Shut up, it's for Delirious.”

Lui poked his head out from the line to see Tyler, rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath, turning to jaunt back around to the table. He jerked his head up at Lui in acknowledgement – he had two pieces of bread. Lui could've sighed with relief. He watched Tyler toss one to Delirious – Lui couldn't help being reminded of a duck – who grinned and, catching his gaze, waved the bread up for Lui to see. Lui gave a little thumbs-up, and a low grunt from the inmate behind him reminded him to keep moving forward. By the time he got back to the table, however, tragedy had apparently struck, and Lui could tell Delirious was whining without hearing the words.

“C'm _on,_ please?” he was pleading at Tyler, who was shaking his head.

“Hell no. You're not making me work at lunch.”

“But it's not even like working, I just wanna buy some candy!” Delirious insisted.

“Well you gotta do that shit when it's open!” Tyler reminded him, and Delirious crossed his arms.

“But it's _al_ ways open at lunch! There's that other guy, right?”

Tyler shook his head. “Scotty. Nope, he got out a few weeks ago. Just me in there now.”

Delirious threw his hands up. “Well it's not like we can just skip work! When are we supposed to go?!”

Tyler shrugged. “Guess you'll just have to get yourself into max sec. They've got lunch when I'm working.”

Delirious looked like he was about to start contemplating it when Brian gave a low, _“Don't.”_

“What's he doing?” a voice asked from behind Lui, startling him and making him drop his fork. It was Craig, taking a seat.

_“Not_ getting himself into max sec so he can buy some fucking candy.” Brian answered curtly, keeping an eye on Delirious.

“Uh, yeah. Don't do that.” Craig agreed, taking a bite of bread. Then, covering his mouth, managed to continue, “But wait, can't you just go after lunch? Since everyone's working?”

Delirious sighed. “But today's the first day at the library, got training and all that.”

Craig shrugged. “So you show up ten minutes late, who cares?”

Lui blinked. “Wouldn't they – like – fire you? If you're late on your first day?”

Tyler shook his head. “Nope. The library's pretty chill, you're paid by however much you do. Don't give a shit when you get there.”

Delirious turned to Tyler, shocked. “You knew there was a library? Why didn't you tell me!” he cried.

Tyler seemed equally surprised. “You didn't _know?_ I worked there for three months! Okay and wait a sec-” he put down his fork, “since when the _fuck_ do you read?”

All four men turned their curious gazes toward Delirious – who didn't have an answer. After giving an intelligent “uh”, followed by a feeble laugh that translated roughly to 'yeah, that was bullshit', Delirious found another reason for distress.

“Well the same people might not run it anymore! Who knows, they could be real strict about it now!” he pointed out.

Brian leaned his forehead on his hand, exhausted. “Delirious, if you want somethin' from the shop, that's what you've gotta do. Take it or leave it.”

Delirious huffed. _“Some_ one didn't get enough sleep.”

Brian seemed energized by a sudden fiery frustration. “Yeah, you know, you're right!” He pointed an accusing finger at Craig. “Do you know how loud this fucker snores? Like sleeping in a fuckin' construction site!”

Craig put a hand over his heart. “Words hurt.”

Brian was about to start making a cruder comparison – “It's like Valentine's Day in the apartment under the kinkiest-” when Craig interjected. “Okay no, we established this – _I_ don't snore loud. _You're_ just a li'l bitch. The whole block agreed.”

Tyler nodded, messing with whatever dark chewy thing they were passing as meat. “I can verify this.” he muttered, earning an appreciative _“Thank_ you,” from Craig.

“Oh, 'cause Tyler's a good judge. Remember he slept through a _riot.”_ Brian snapped.

But Tyler immediately diffused his argument. “Three people telling Nogla the heater's broken is not a riot.” 

“Okay, it was more than three, c'mon.” Brian tried to negotiate, but Tyler wouldn't budge.

“It was three. You, Craig, and some dumbass living next to you.” Brian opened his mouth to question how he could've possibly known – Tyler probably read his mind. “Nogla told me. Said it was real sad, you were all huddled under your blankets, going-” he slipped into a thick British accent, “'please sir, we're cold sir'.”

“Okay yeah, don't push it,” Brian muttered, though his lips cracked a smile.

The minute lunch ended and work shifts began, Tyler had just enough time to give a apprehensive “No, no no no,” before Delirious grinned and grabbed him by the jacket and charged to the doors – he probably would've picked him up if he could've – his grip like a vice as he wormed his way through crowd. And by that time, Tyler knew it was worthless to protest.

When the two surfaced on the other side, Tyler had to extract Delirious' fist from his jacket finger by finger as he continued his previous lecture, this time moving on to the joys of FunDip.

“And you can eat the fuckin' stick! Did you know that?! I didn't know that, Luke ate his once and I thought he was goin' crazy. So many sticks wasted. But never again.”

Tyler finally freed himself, Delirious not even noticing his sudden spare hand.

“You know we don't really have that, right?” Tyler questioned carefully.

“Bullshit, I seen it! You been hidin' 'em?” Delirious demanded.

Tyler grinned. “Nah, man, I dunno what you're talkin' about. Never seen 'em come in.”

Delirious looked over at him with big eyes. “Really?”

“I mean – we can check. Never know. Skittles for sure though.” Tyler assured him quickly.

Delirious nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah, Skittles for sure,” he repeated.

By the time they arrived at the store, a someone already stood at the register. Delirious raced off into the aisles, and Tyler slapped the back of the man standing there, with a cheery, “Anthony, hey. How you doing? Aren't you supposed to be working?”

Anthony grinned. “Oh, no. I'm boycotting until someone starts _paying me!”_ he suddenly shouted at the door, as if the warden were standing there.

“What? You're not getting paid?” Tyler asked, frustrated in his stead.

“Nope. A glitch in the system, or whatever they're saying. So I'm just gonna spend all my credits before they _glitch_ out of existence.” he explained, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers.

“Don't think it's an accident?” Tyler inquired, suspicious.

Anthony shook his head. “Hell, no. The guy running the factory is a dick, I know for a _fact_ he's just not logging my hours. Spawn of Satan. Probably kicks puppies for fun and burns orphans for warmth.”

“Jesus,” Tyler laughed, and walked around the counter.

As Tyler scanned Anthony's stuff, Delirious emerged from one of the aisles with a packet of Skittles and a soda, wearing a toothy grin.

“Anthony! You ever seen FunDip here?” Delirious asked him curiously.

Anthony thought for a second. “I don't think so. That's the powder stuff, right?” he asked.

Delirious nodded, then gasped. “You _have had_ it, right?”

Anthony shook his head, smiling as Delirious whipped back and forth between he and Tyler, looking for some kind of explanation. “Okay, it's the most delicious sugary shit there is! Tyler, you gotta get them to sell FunDip! You gotta save Anthony!”

Tyler grinned. “Kinda out of my hands, but sure, I'll tell the manager. Special request from Delirious.”

“Special _demand_ from Delirious!” he insisted.

The two had to chuckle. Delirious and Tyler waved Anthony off, and Delirious put his stuff on the counter. When he got to the Skittles, Tyler frowned.

“Hey, you don't have enough for this.” he muttered.

Delirious's eyes went wide. “Really?!” He suddenly fell to sadness. “No, not the Skittles...”

Tyler shrugged. “I'll buy it for you. But you'll owe me ten of 'em.”

“Hell no! Two,” Delirious countered.

“Seven.” Tyler answered.

“C'mon, that's still like – almost all of them!” Delirious whined. “Four, tops.”

“Five,” Tyler pressed, grinning.

“Over _one_ Skittle! Nah. Four. Four and I'll get you something when I've got credits.”

“Done,” Tyler agreed, and typed in his PIN.

Delirious giggled like a kid and tore open the packet. Tyler held out his hand, and Delirious carefully poured four – and _only_ four – into his palm. Tyler popped them all into his mouth, and Delirious seemed to take religious offense.

“What! All at once! That's just disrespectful!” he cried.

Tyler shrugged, chewing. Delirious shook his head in disapproval. “You've gotta savor 'em, man.” he instructed, putting one in his mouth, and closed his eyes in bliss.

Tyler rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Don't you have somewhere to be?” he reminded him.

Delirious's eyes popped open. “Fuck, you're right!” Without another word, he all but sprinted down the hall.

“Other way, dumbass!” Tyler shouted after him.

There was a cackle, and Delirious flashed across his view, calling, “Thanks!” and Tyler couldn't help but smile.


	8. First Day of Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lui and Delirious have their first day working in the library.
> 
> Lui learns about another aspect of prison life.

In response to Craig's question of 'who cares' if Delirious was ten minutes late to the library – the answer was the fuming man who already worked there. Delirious was also a little more like twenty minutes late after getting lost and being found by Nogla, who became his tired and chuckling escort. 

Delirious waltzed through one of the steel doors he'd never really noticed, tucked away in a hallway he only vaguely knew existed, and gave a grand, “Nobody panic! I'm here!”

The response was immediate. And loud.

“Where the _fuck_ have you _been!_ You're late!” a man he'd never seen was shouting, throwing his hands in the air.

Delirious wasn't bothered. He nodded at Lui, who was chewing his nails, and took a look around the room with a mutter of “Sheesh, calm down, man.”

The room smelled like dust, the bookshelves lining the walls holding the sheepish and faded culprits. The man continued ranting about how this “better not happen again”, with some threat about getting “kicked outta here before you know it”, but Delirious was exploring. There was a tinted window at the end of the room, with a narrow gap. On the other side, Delirious caught a glimpse of faded denim.

Delirious leaned toward the glass, squishing his nose against it to make out a figure on the other side.

“Aw, c'mon, you'll smudge it.” an kind-sounding voice came from the other side.

Delirious grinned. “Sorry,” he answered, and stepped back. Then he got down on his knees and peered up through the gap, but all he could make out was a blue shirt, and hands holding a phone.

“You should probably listen to Marcel,” the voice suggested.

“Yeah, _maybe.”_ the shouting man – Marcel, apparently – simmered.

Delirious whipped around on his heel. “Aight! Nice to meet you, man, I'm Delirious.” he introduced himself cheerfully, sounding surprisingly civilized.

Marcel raised his eyebrows, suddenly calmer. “Wait – like _Delirious_ Delirious?”

He gave a heavy nod that seemed to rock his entire body, bored by the question as he took another long glance around the room. “So what're we doin' here?” he asked.

Marcel quickly got back into gear. “Easy as shit. Ryan gives us the orders-”

The man in the back called, “That's me,”

“Yeah. And we deliver them. We only do max sec – map's there if you don't know it.” Marcel explained, pointing at the series of sheets pinned to the wall by the glass, forming the layout of maximum security.

Delirious cackled and gave a little, “Psh. I know it.”

Marcel's face seemed to say 'go figure'. Then he was irritated again. “Well we're already behind cause'a your late ass.”

“Yup, got about seven orders here. Y'all ready?” Ryan asked, pushing what must have been seven slips of paper through the gap.

“Better be, twenty minutes late,” Marcel grumbled as he walked over to the window and leafed through the slips.

“Well you don't gotta be so...” Delirious stopped to think of a word, but nothing was coming to mind. “So – uh,”

“Pedantic,” Lui offered, his confidence growing with Delirious in the room.

“Yeah, yeah, pedantic.” Delirious muttered, nodding. Then he turned to Lui. “Wait, what's that mean?”

Lui laughed, and explained, “Uh, tight-ass.”

“Yeah! Pedantic!” Delirious suddenly jeered.

Marcel just rolled his eyes as he scanned the three papers he'd grabbed, then turned and immediately grabbed a worn book off the shelf.

Delirious blinked. “How'd you know where it is so fast?” he asked, surprised, perhaps even impressed.

“Alphabetical order. And this one's popular.” Marcel answered, flipping through the pages himself. Delirious crouched and craned up his neck to see the title – something about World War Two.

“Looks cool,” he agreed, standing up.

“Yeah, well, read it when it's in.” Marcel sighed, and started looking for another. “I mean, if it ever is. Usually gone the day after it's returned.”

Ryan made another appearance. “Yeah, 'cause they spam me with orders for it,” he complained irritably.

Marcel retrieved another book and turned to see Lui and Delirious standing there, staring at him. He threw his free hand up.

“I'm not working fucking miracles over here, grab an order!” he cried, exasperated.

Delirious just cackled and drifted over to the counter, looking through the remaining four orders, Lui trailing behind.

Delirious gave a quiet “hm,” as he gazed thoughtfully at the four cell numbers, trying to work out how to divvy them up between the two of them.

Ryan was apparently watching from the other side of the glass, and gave a suggestion. “Marcel took the three on the first floor. The rest are split between the second and fourth, if you wanna divide and conquer.”

“Yeah, but all these are real close, aren't they? Not the same floor, but right by the stairs?” Delirious asked, putting his hand on three of the papers.

“Yeah, that'd work. But that other one's kinda out of the way.” Ryan pointed out.

Lui peered over at the papers, wondering how to word his question. “Are the – uh – max sec guys, like...”

“The top two floors are all the short-term guys, and they get rowdy. The rest aren't too bad.” Ryan replied.

“Yeah, they a bunch'a teddy bears down there,” Delirious giggled.

Lui blinked. “You've been there?”

Delirious shook his head. “Nah. If you down there, you stay down there. But I been in the top floors, had lunch with 'em and all. You can always tell who's been there the longest,” he explained. 

Lui nodded slowly, understanding but not sure if he wanted to.

Delirious gave himself an affirmative little “Uh huh,” and then declared, “Okay, I'll do the fourth floor and you do the second, alright?”

“Yeah,” Lui agreed, silently thankful as Delirious handed him two of the orders.

“Right, so... Books.” Delirious remembered, looking down at the paper, frowning. “Starts with an 'f'.” He wandered over to the bookshelf, staring. He pointed at one. “'M'.” he muttered. He looked over at Lui. “Hey, which one comes- Wait,” he suddenly interrupted himself and looked up at the ceiling, singing the ABCs under his breath. Lui watched him for a moment as he paused, frowned, and started again, slower.

“F comes first,” Lui felt he should say, quietly.

Delirious's eyes lit up. “F! F comes first.”

Lui laughed. “That's what I said!”

“Yeah, me too,” Delirious replied obliviously as scanned the books, taking small steps to the right – and then quickly turning back and continuing toward the left.

“No, I mean-” Lui started, but gave up halfway through, shaking his head. “Forget it,”

Delirious, only half-paying attention and honestly clueless as to what he was saying, gave a distracted “Uh huh,”

After another moment of Lui's silent observation as Delirious looked back and forth between the slip of paper and the shelves, the clearing of a throat from the back reminded Lui of what he should be doing. 

He glanced down at the paper. The book was The Great Gatsby. A quick glance over some of the titles told him to ignore 'the', and he turned to hunt for the G section. As he slid the book out from the case, he couldn't help hearing Delirious's quiet but increasingly distressed renditions of the ABCs. He wondered briefly if he should intervene, but decided to wait it out.

Lui was collecting his last book when Delirious suddenly wailed, “Man, fuck the alphabet! This is bullshit. They should be in color order.”

Lui grinned. “But wouldn't they have to, like, describe the color of all the books?”

“Also the color changes when stuff happens to them,” Ryan chimed absent-mindedly.

Lui raised his eyebrows, curious. “What happens to them to change the color?” he inquired.

“Wear and tear,” Ryan answered – then, quietly, “And sometimes bodily... substances,”

Lui immediately turned to the shelf with a 'wish-I-hadn't-asked' kind of, “ _O_ kay then...”

He glanced over at Delirious to see his reaction, but he seemed completely immersed in the crumbling world of trying to find his first book.

“What are you looking for?” Lui asked, taking pity on him.

Delirious just turned to show him the paper, looking slightly miserable. 

“Flight,” Lui muttered to himself. He look another look across the titles, and within a few seconds was pulling it off the shelf.

“See, how'd you find that!” Delirious demanded, irritated but not at Lui.

Lui shrugged. “Alphabetical order. It's not that hard.”

Delirious let out a sigh in the form of a dramatic “Pfff,” and started toward the door.

Ryan called from the back, “Oh, before you go,” and Lui and Delirious peered back at him. “Library workers get running privileges.”

Delirious gave a dark cackle. _“Awesome.”_

“Yeah. Just flash them a book or an order if they look at you funny.” Ryan explained.

“Oh, Imma flash 'em _some_ thin'.” he giggled, and threw open the door, leaving Lui to slip out before it came swinging back for revenge.

Delirious immediately _booked_ it down the hall. His sudden shout of “C'mon man!” caught Lui a bit off guard – he definitely didn't expected him to start running straight out the door, and _definitely_ not that fast – but he tried his best to keep up. Still, Delirious kept a good three seconds ahead of him, and that only seemed to be increasing.

A few minutes later, when Delirious was rounding a corner about twenty feet ahead of Lui, he finally admitted defeat and shouted, “Wait up!”

A second later, Delirious's head popped around the corner, with a wide grin.

“You gotta keep up, man! Gonna get lost in max sec!” Delirious teased, and Lui shook his head, slowing down.

“You-” he wiped his forehead, “You need to slow down, I can't run that fast.”

Delirious gave a small cackle, taking it as a compliment, though Lui was honestly concerned about how he was going to make it up the stairs at that pace.

“Okay, okay. You go first, I'll run with you.” Delirious suggested, taking a step back to give Lui the hallway.

“How about we just walk, huh?” Lui asked, beginning a leisurely pace.

_“Walk?_ But we got running privileges, man!” Delirious whined, beginning to run in place backwards to face Lui, obviously still bursting with energy.

“Okay seriously though,” Lui interjected, some mixture of concerned and curious, “you don't eat, like, anything. How in the world have you got so much energy?”

Delirious just laughed. “Cause I sleep like a fuckin' _angel!”_ and continued to run in place, seemingly challenging himself to get his knees as high as his shoulders. “And also, that's a damn lie, I eat shit! Y'all just aren't there to see it,” he replied.

“Like when?” Lui inquired.

“All the damn time! I'm like a – I'm like a squirrel, man. Gotta keep that shit _safe.”_ he lectured, and then may have lost the patience for the conversation. “C'mon, you ready to run or what!”

“Well we've gotta be close, right? Why don't we just chill out 'till we get there?” Lui offered.

“But that's no fun!” Delirious complained.

“You've got three flights of stairs ahead, though, why don't you just walk in the mean time?” Lui reasoned, knowing it was useless to argue, but wondering what he would say.

“Cause we _can,_ man! Only other time you can run is yard time, and it's too crowded. If you can run you gotta fuckin' do it!” Delirious insisted, and it was another one of those times when he seemed surprisingly genuine out of the blue.

Lui, somehow both defeated and inspired, rolled his eyes and started jogging.

Delirious grinned and matched his pace, but it wasn't more than a few seconds before he started getting impatient. “Just a _l'il_ faster?” he requested.

Lui sped up a bit. But that didn't hold him off for long.

“Like a _smidge_ faster.” Delirious prodded.

“I mean, if you wanna take breaks, sure.” It might've been an offer or a threat.

“Oh. Okay, this is fine.” Delirious settled, trying not to push it.

He was able to keep that pace for a decent while, and Lui was just about to be impressed with his consistency when they came across a flight of stairs, and without a second thought, Delirious launched into a series of merciless lunges across them, taking two – three when ambitious – steps at a time.

“Delirious, c'mon! I don't know where the rooms are!” Lui cried up after him, starting up with more human-like speed.

Delirious looked down from a higher flight. “Don't worry about it, man, they're right next to the door! Just look at the numbers!”

“And I just – give it right to them?” he asked uncertainly. 

Delirious chuckled. “Fuck, I guess so. Meet you at the bottom, 'kay?” he called, and disappeared. 

“Sure,” Lui answered feebly, the distant pitter-pat of feet making him absolutely positive that he couldn't hear.

There was the slam of a door. Delirious was gone. Lui continued up the stairs a bit more tentatively, keeping his eyes on the floor and checking the room numbers over and over until he had the numbers engrained into his head, but he still kept looking at them. He'd never been to this side of the prison. The muffled sound of hollering upstairs caught him a bit off guard – Delirious must be getting a welcome party.

Lui pushed open the door to the second floor. It was darker here than in the medium security Raccoon block. The cells were smaller and squished together, only one person laying on a bed or doing some kind of unrealistically-difficult exercise in each. A few of them looked up and watched Lui as he walked down the hall. He tried to keep his eyes on the cell numbers. They counted up steadily until they reached H72, the first stop.

Lui paused in front of cell H72. He saw the dark lump of an inmate curled up on the mattress, unmoving. Lui thought he must be sleeping. He stared at the book for a second, thinking. Should he say something? But what would he say, 'hey, guy in orange' or 'you, the one in cell H72' or just 'wake up dumbass, I got you a book'...

“You alright?” a deep voice asked from beside Lui, making him jump. It was a guard he'd never seen before. He read his name: Officer Gonzales.

Lui started to explain with a “I – uh,” but figured it'd be more efficient to just hold up the book.

Gonzales didn't really need the explanation. There was only one reason a shy-looking medium-sec man would ever be here. “You can just put it between the bars. He'll get it when he wakes up.”

Lui nodded, and knelt down to slide the book into the cell.

“Good to see Marcel got a buddy.” Gonzales remarked as Lui stood back up.

“We're not really – buddies,” Lui felt he should say. Gonzales just raised an eyebrow very slightly. “You know, he's kinda... Irritable, I guess.” Lui explained, shrugging as if he were a lot more comfortable than he was.

Gonzales gave a small nod, understanding. “He's a good worker. Great guy to have around.” he replied, though he didn't disagree.

Lui felt like he could counter, but didn't. Instead he just started to continue down the hall, stopping again in front of cell H93. This man was doing sit-ups on the floor, spotting him the next time he hauled himself up.

“You're not the black guy.” was all he said.

“Um, no.” Lui muttered. He help up the book. “Got this,”

“Where's the other guy?” he asked curtly, unmoving.

Lui shrugged. “I dunno, delivering to someone else.” he answered, trying to sound like he was less intimidated than he was.

From down the hall, Gonzales shouted. “Shut up and take the damn book.”

The inmate just stared at Lui for another second. Lui was about to just put it through the bars again when he stood up in a flash and approached him slowly. Lui held the book into the cell, but he didn't take it, he just stared.

Then his lips curled up into a wide, stretched smile. His voice was very calm, and quiet. “That's okay. I'm tolerant.”

Officer Gonzales approached the cell, standing beside Lui with his arms crossed. “Cut the bullshit and take the book.”

The inmate was just opening his mouth when Lui suddenly decided to hurl the book at his bare toes corner-first, sending him into a frenzy of 'fuck!' and 'motherfucker!' until he got himself to sit down on the mattress, holding his foot like it was a newborn baby.

“Sorry, man, my hand slipped.” Lui could hardly say it with a straight face.

Gonzales gave an understated smile, obviously not supposed to encourage him, but entertained nonetheless.

“Everything okay over here?” another guard asked from around the corner.

“Yeah, all fine,” Gonzales called. He jerked his head toward the door, a silent message for Lui to leave before the inmate made a complaint. Lui was more than happy to leave the block.

Lui all but skipped down the stairs, still chuckling to himself. Peering over the railing, Lui saw Delirious laying down on the bottom floor, staring at the ceiling. His eyes lit up when he noticed Lui, and grinned.

“There you are! Jeesh, man, you takin' forever!” Delirious teased, and pulled himself up to stand.

“Yeah, there was a weird guy,” Lui explained briefly.

Delirious gave a little “Ah.” that almost came across as sympathetic. “Well let's go, let's go!” Delirious cheered.

If Lui was anything close to buzzed when he started the sprint back, it didn't last long. He might've kept up for a solid twenty seconds, but after that, the familiar sight of Delirious vanishing behind a corner reappeared to remind him that there is _no_ way a guy should have that kind of stamina.

Fortunately, Lui was able to remember most of the turns – though he may or may not have ended up a _tiny_ bit lost on one or two occasions. Maybe three. Okay, so maybe Brock walked him back, so what? The place is a maze!

When he finally got back to the library, Delirious was sitting down cross-legged like a kid on the floor, slightly rocking back and forth while Marcel stood leaned up against the wall.

“Sorry, man. Did you get lost?” Delirious asked, sounding concerned.

Lui just pulled his mouth to the side, and gave a mutter of, “Yeah, maybe.”

Marcel folded his arms. “Well apparently Delirious here is just fuckin' Sonic or something.”

“Yeah, that was pretty quick for a four-story delivery.” Ryan remarked.

Delirious looked bashful for a moment, but quickly switched the topic. “Well I ain't shit findin' the books, tell you that.”

Lui sat down across from Delirious, holding his knees. “Then why don't I just find books and you run them? Seems faster.”

Delirious started nodding, “Yeah, yeah yeah, I like that idea.”

Marcel frowned. “But then you'd just be sitting here all day, that's not fair.”

Ryan chimed in. “That also makes it real difficult to figure out your pay.”

Delirious waved his arms around with a loud, _“Guys_ guys guys,” to quiet them. “We just get paid the same, it's not a big deal!”

“Yeah, and just give me something else to do. Sorting or something, I dunno.” Lui offered.

“Alright, you could take some overtime off my hands,” Ryan considered, then explained, “Lots of tape. And white-out.”

“But how would you pay him for that?” Marcel inquired.

“Just do a time thing, like normal jobs do.” Delirious suggested.

There was a short moment of pondering silence. Marcel, Lui, and Delirious all looked between each other, waiting for someone to point out some obvious flaw in their master plan, but no one came up with anything.

Eventually, Ryan spoke. “Well, I'll run it by the big boss lady at lunch, and we'll see,” he replied.

Lui looked around for a clock. “What time is-”

The crunch blared through the room.

Delirious jumped to his feet and gave a triumphant, “Yard time!”

Delirious's excitement seemed to evaporate off of him as soon as they stepped foot outside the library, and the whole way to the cafeteria, he was quiet. Lui glanced over at him once in a while – he was frowning at the floor in front of him, settling to trod with the herd rather than duck and weave through them like an obstacle course. It was a little unsettling. Marcel noticed it too – he and Lui made concerned eye contact every once in a while, Marcel once mouthing, 'He okay?' to which Lui could only shrug.

Marcel promptly changed directions after reaching the yard. Lui was about to wave, but he was already turned away. He gnawed his cheek and continued to follow Delirious, who still remained quiet. 

Lui wasn't sure whether to ask if he was okay or leave him alone. Before he could make a decision, Delirious broke out into a sprint toward Tyler, who was leaned against a hoop dribbling a basketball, and attempted to snatch it.

Tyler seemed to break out of an absent-minded daze just in time to give a “Woah!” of surprise and turn to block him, throw the ball up out of Delirious's reach, only for it to bounce off the rim and shoot toward the middle of the yard, where inmates were still dispersing. Both of them started after it, but another familiar face suddenly appeared – Craig, pushing his way out from the crowd to catch the ball and throw it back. 

“Where the hell are you throwing that thing?” Craig scolded with a laugh, as he jogged up to join them.

“It bounced off the rim!” Tyler justified, catching it from the air despite Delirious's leaping attempt.

Lui glanced across the yard. He could just barely see Marcel, leaning up against a fence with some other guys. They looked bored.

As Delirious started to back away from the hoop, Lui suggested, “We should get Marcel to play.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Who's that?”

“Guy in the library,” Lui explained, while Delirious scanned the crowd for him.

“Hm. No, no.” Delirious decided.

Lui frowned. “Why not?” he asked, and he could sense a sort of collective sigh.

Tyler walked toward them, dribbling casually. “See who he's with,” he answered, and his voice was quieter than usual, but Lui didn't get it. He turned back to Delirious, hoping for a better explanation.

Delirious rubbed his mouth for a moment. “See that,” he began, jerking his head toward them, “That's a race pack. You see 'em with white people,” he pointed toward a group of all-white men joshing each other off to the side, “Hispanics,” he nodded toward a crowd in the centre, “and black people. You can't get through this place alone, man. Either you join 'em, or you take their shit until you die. But once you're in, you step one toe outta line, and you're fucked.” he warned Lui.

Lui blinked. “Then how come...” He looked between the guys. They were all white, except him. And Evan, too, he remembered. “How come me and Evan don't get hassled?”

Tyler had an easy answer. “Cause you're friends with this dumbass.” he replied with a shove to Delirious's shoulder, and got a shove right back. 

“Man, shut up,” Delirious muttered with a grin.

Brian gave a nod. “True, though. No one messes with you with him around – Craig used to take all sorts of shit before Delirious stepped in.”

Craig had been distracted, stretching out his legs, and perked up like a meercat at the sound of his name. “Oh, yeah. Dark days.” he grumbled.

Lui frowned. “Why did-” but he didn't get to finish the question.

Delirious gave a few hearty claps. “C'mon, we playing or what!” and no one opposed.

Lui watched Craig. He was a nice guy, but he was built solid. If anyone was going to get messed with around here, Lui wouldn't have pegged it as him. His curiosity was through the roof, but he had the distinct feeling that this was one of those pieces of the past that you just leave to the imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to have a link to a Tumblr post with Craig's backstory here. If you were looking for it, I'm sorry - I've taken it down. For the sake of closure or inclusion or something, I'm going to just add it into the actual posted story (i.e. this). Just feels neater that way. Y'all shouldn't have to jump through hoops.
> 
> Also, Ryan (the guy who works in the library behind the tinted glass) is Ohmwrecker.


	9. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious has a phone call with Luke.

Yard time gave way to dinner, and the boys started back inside and toward the cafeteria. But before they started shoving through the double doors, Delirious nudged Lui's arm and pointed down a different hall.

“See you after,” he muttered.

Lui blinked. “Where are you going?”

Delirious just shrugged and turned back. Lui tried to watch him, but he was lost instantly in the advancing orange walls.

\-----

A few miles down the road, a man was watching television in his living room, which smelled faintly of cologne, lounging lazily on a plush red couch. Everything about the room – from the slick black speakers to the freshly-vacuumed white carpets – seemed terribly misplaced within the cramped little house, sitting on the edge of the town where no cops lasted long.

The man began to lean forward in his seat, frowning, absorbed in some development on the television, when his phone rang. The song didn't get past the second word – I'm deliri – before he had the television off and the phone to his ear.

“Hey man,” Luke answered, grinning as he settled back into the couch. But then his frown returned, deeper this time. “What's goin' on?”

On the other line, Delirious's voice was fading. “Nothin', nothin'.” He was about to continue, but Luke knew better than to let him.

“Bullshit, what is it?” he asked again, sitting up.

A staticky sigh floated through Luke's phone. “Man, you didn't tell me 'bout the wedding.”

Luke's face dropped. He wiped his mouth. He knew he'd ask eventually, he'd tried to think of a response – he'd planned it out in his head over and over, even said it to a mirror once or twice – but it was never good enough. And now, sitting here, Delirious waiting for his explanation, even that crap script was gone from his head, and he had to improvise.

“I didn't, man, I'm sorry. She wanted to be the one to tell you. You guys don't talk a lot, you know, she wanted to give you a letter and make it all official.”

There was silence. Luke knew Delirious well enough to know he was either nodding in understanding, or glaring at the phone, planning revenge. But he didn't know which. So he continued.

“Man, I wanted to tell you so bad when I was over there. Almost did a couple times. But she made me promise that I wouldn't.” he insisted.

Delirious was quiet for another second. It was tense. Luke felt frozen in place. He reminded himself over and over: He's a good guy. He'll get it.

Delirious cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“All good?” Luke asked, and they both knew the question wasn't rhetorical.

“Yeah. Yeah, all good. I get you, she a stubborn lady.” Delirious answered, and Luke could hear his face relaxing through the phone. He could've sighed with relief – but he needed to change the topic.

“Yeah, she is. So you got that job?” he inquired.

“Yeah, me and Lui. It's not too bad, man, _way_ fuckin' better than that factory bullshit.” Delirious replied, and Luke chuckled.

“So moving, at least?” Luke assumed.

“Way fuckin' better than that – _running_ privileges! Running! All through max sec!” he suddenly exclaimed, and Luke finally relaxed back into the couch, grinning.

“Kid can't keep up though – man, you know that guy ain't even a kid? Guy's _thirty-fuckin-two!”_ Delirious cried.

Even Luke was surprised. “The fuck? Thirty- _two?_ Same guy who didn't know what a fuckin' _taser_ wound looks like?”

“Right? Sheltered or somethin'!” Delirious cackled. “But yeah, he ain't too good a runner, so Imma do all that. Man, I can't fuckin' _wait_ for tomorrow, gonna have all of max sec to myself!” he giggled, ecstatic, and you'd think it was his birthday.

Luke laughed. “That's great, man.” He shook his head to himself. “And here I was, thinkin' you might actually get some muscle on you.”

“Legs are fuckin' muscles!” Delirious protested. “And you put 'bout five fuckin' pounds on me last time, don't you be complainin'. Workin' my ass off like that,” he muttered with feigned spite.

Luke smiled. “Don't you pretend you didn't have fun doin' it.”

As Delirious gave a little, “Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Luke knew with absolute certainty that he had a big, toothy, sheepishly sentimental grin. He just wished he could've seen it.

“Bet you freaked out the kid with that pull-up game, huh?” Luke inquired, proud as a dad seeing his kid throw a pitch just the way he taught.

“Yeah, well, learned from the best, bitch!” Delirious giggled.

“Man, you don't need hardly any teachin'. Stick around a little longer next time and you might start lookin' solid one of these days,” Luke teased.

“Fuck you man, I'm solid!” Delirious cackled.

“Yeah, I'll just wait for the doc to say that,” Luke laughed. “And don't let me fuckin' pester you about eatin', alright?”

“Man, it's all shit here, though,” Delirious complained.

“Well I'd send you home-cooked fuckin' meals if I could, but they ain't havin' it.” Luke replied, just as annoyed as Delirious.

Delirious groaned. “Man, that's bullshit.”

“You usin' the shop?” Luke inquired.

“Nah, man, the min sec guy – Scotty, I think – he left. Just Tyler in there now.”

Luke gave an irritable sigh. “Man, I'm not gonna try and go all doc on you. But – you know...”

“Yeah. I get you.” Delirious answered, understanding – but Luke knew he'd never take care of himself the way he wanted him to. The whole concept of considering his own health just didn't click with him. It worried Luke, but there was no point in pushing it. If only he could keep him around the house long enough to make some good habits – but that was like trying to hold back the moon in its dizzy, inevitable orbit. And Luke didn't have the strength.

“They oughta hire someone pretty quick to man it, though.” Delirious pondered.

“True. Good way of makin' money.” Luke agreed.

“We could get all of medium sec in a big ol' fit if they don't,” Delirious schemed, perhaps only half kidding.

Luke laughed. “That's just careless of 'em, depriving those guys from their sugar and cigs,”

“Man, Imma go crazy if I don't get some fuckin' Nerds or somethin' by the end of the week!” he insisted.

“Wow, gettin' desperate now,” Luke chuckled.

“You know they don't have Fun Dip in the shop? What kinda bullshit is that!” Delirious cried.

Luke smiled and pulled a leg up to the couch, holding it to his chest. “Fuck, that sucks. But it ain't the most common thing,” he reasoned.

“'Parently not, Anthony never even had it. Ridic'ulus.” he grumbled.

“Well, I'll stock up for you.” Luke promised, making a mental note.

“For real?!” Delirious cried.

Luke laughed. “Fuck yeah I will, I want some too!”

Delirious gave a low, warm rendition of his usual cackle – the one that could make anything worth it. “Thanks man,”

“My pleasure.” Luke replied with a smile.

Delirious seemed to clear his throat, and his voice was a bit lower when he spoke again. He didn't need to say a thing for Luke to know that he was about to ask something he didn't want to ask.

“She – uh – she's happy, yeah? That guy – he..?” he trailed, either not sure how to continue, or not sure he needed to. More likely the latter.

“Yeah, she is. He's a good guy, you met 'im, he checked out.” Luke reminded him, but understood his concern all too well. He wasn't always this protective over his sister, but Luke never teased him about it – after all the shit they'd been through, he had good reason to be.

“Yeah. Yeah, I thought so. But she ain't... She look okay and all that?” he asked, quiet and likely embarrassed for his own strange reasons – the ones Luke could see but couldn't explain.

“She's doin' great, man. They're like two li'l damn lovebirds.” Luke assured him.

Delirious funneled his relieved sigh through the tiniest crack in his lips, but he wasn't fooling anybody. “Okay. That's good, that's good.”

Luke grinned. “And you scared him good. Don't think he's got the balls to touch her after _that,”_

Delirious giggled, beaming. Luke remembered the day those two met quite clearly – though probably not as clearly as the poor, pale man who had to endure about ten minutes of Delirious's incredibly graphic threats, and sit sweating as he ate dinner under his dark glare. Luke knew Delirious had considered it a success when he woke up the next day looking as if he'd actually slept – the first time in a few months. But that wasn't something they talked about.

Luke glanced at the time, where it glowed under the clean black television screen.

“Fuck, man, you better get some dinner.” Luke realized.

Delirious was about to groan, but Luke cut him off. “Hey, do what you want for lunch, but you gotta get somethin' decent for dinner.” Luke reminded him.

“Yeah, I remember. Dun' mean I like it,” he sighed.

Luke grinned. “You know, with all the shit you get up to, the last thing I would expect you to be picky about is food.”

Back in an echoing stone hallway, Delirious was about to counter with something about him having _no_ idea what 'shit he gets up to', but he had to remember who he was talking to: the guy who knew the most about that 'shit' out of everybody in the entire world. But there were some things Delirious still kept under lock and key, and Luke would never press it. Delirious was full of laughter, and passion like wildfire – but if his dark edges ever saw the light of day, Luke had a hollowing fear that he would never see Delirious again.

He gave a small cackle. “Not my fault I got good taste,”

Luke laughed. “Fuckin' pallet of an emperor.”

“That ain't true, I eat absolute shit all the damn time!” Delirious insisted.

“Well, stay home a little more and you wouldn't have to!” Luke replied, and Delirious was about to be relieved, when Luke spoke again a moment later, voice lower. “The key's yours, man. But you gotta use it,”

Delirious looked away from the wall, as if struggling to avoid eye contact with a man miles away. Delirious knew he wasn't talking about prison anymore. This was about the outside.

His head reeled for something to say. He tried to speak, choked on his tongue, cleared his throat, and Luke saved him.

“But you did good last time. And that was fun as all hell.” Luke remembered, the smile in his voice tempted Delirious's lips to a grin.

“Yeah, it was.” Delirious chuckled. It was true – when he was arrested two days ago, it was the first time he'd done something stupid during those whole two months. But as much as he loved being in that house, with Luke, doing just whatever came to mind, there was still that... horrible, sinking, drowning sort of feeling, and it drove him out.

Delirious didn't want to think about it. He put his hand to his neck, driving a nail into his skin to distract himself. 

Luke's chuckle drifted in subtle pulses through the phone, convincing Delirious silently to take his hand away. He clenched his fist in the chest of his blue hoodie instead.

“Alright, for real this time, get some dinner.” Luke insisted.

Delirious smiled. He was back now. “Aw, okay. Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Course. Go eat.” Luke replied, smiling through the order.

“Okay,” Delirious chuckled, and hung up the phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke's ringtone is Delirious Outta My Mind by Deliri0us, his old outro song.
> 
> Delirious struggles massively to stay out of prison, for reasons we'll talk about in a bit.
> 
> There was a little hint about something Delirious and his sister went through. That'll be discussed within the story, so no need for a Tumblr post there! :)


	10. The Nurse Can't Be Fooled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious has a check-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I've had finals :}
> 
> I'm posting three chapters as an apology!

Delirious buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and started toward the cafeteria. He pushed open the doors just as the cafeteria workers were closing up shop, pulling down the metal dividers and cleaning off counters. Delirious gnawed his cheek for a second, and started forward. He made his way through the tables to where Craig and Brian seemed to be bickering about something, Lui watching in quiet amusement, Tyler drifting between rolling his eyes in exasperation and complete engrossment in the discussion.

Noticing Delirious's approach, Tyler nudged Craig to scoot over. The boys all gave smiling 'hey's as he sat down, Tyler passing him a fruit cereal bar. Lui slid an unopened milk carton toward him, with a small, “Have it,” and Brian passed him a cookie, saying, “He gave me two. I think he's got a thing for me.”

As Craig was giving some response like, “Yeah, he looks like he needs a bottom bitch,” Delirious was gazing over the most precious meal he'd ever been given.

“Thanks guys,” Delirious murmured, his smile was small and genuine, catching the boys off guard.

The four of them weren't sure what to do at first, looking briefly between each other for some kind of answer, but Tyler quickly snapped back into action. He put an arm over Delirious, bringing his skinny frame slightly toward him.

“Course, man!” he replied happily.

The play button was pressed on the other three.

“Yeah, man, you're not going back without eating something,” Brian assured him.

Tyler nodded. “Yeah. Neck it though, dinner's almost over.” he reminded him.

Delirious nodded, and ate with no complaint.

Tyler was right, Delirious had to speed through the food to get it all down before the shriek of six o'clock came blasting through the cafeteria. It was a hell of a lot, comparatively – if he hadn't just come back from Luke's, Delirious knew he would have thrown up.

Standing by the cafeteria was the towering figure of Officer Nogla, who escorted Delirious out of the crowds and toward Dr. Kateb's office.

“The doctor's not in right now, so the nurse will do the check-up.” Nogla told him as he strode down the hall, Delirious keeping up quite easily.

Delirious blinked. “Huh? Where's Kateb?” he asked.

“Well, he's been kinda busy – someone getting blinded yesterday and all,” Nogla explained, with a hint of sarcasm.

Delirious grinned. He'd almost forgotten about that. “Ah. I see, I see.” he replied, playing the part. “That's too bad. It's – uh – permanent? He won't be able to see again?” he inquired innocently.

Nogla tightened his lips for a second, trying to avoid giving any signals that would tell Delirious that he'd done a good job.

“Don't really know. I haven't seen him since.” he answered.

Delirious nodded, though to whom Nogla wasn't sure. As they approached the door, Delirious seemed to blink awake.

“Wait, that means it's just gonna be-” he realized as Nogla opened the frosted-glass door to the medical ward. A smiling man Delirious only vaguely knew – but that was enough for him – stood, clipboard in hand. The badge around his neck finished his sentence for him: Nurse Adam Montoya.

Montoya absent-mindedly scanned through Delirious's chart, knowing he had some time to spare while the patient in question turned and began to whine to Nogla about not wanting an appointment without Kateb. Nogla, of course, had to patiently respond that it simply wasn't up to him. Montoya eyed his chair. It looked like it might take a while indeed. He was just about to take a seat before Nogla finally shook Delirious off of his arm and got the door closed.

Delirious faced him with a huff. Montoya smiled. “Nice to see you again,”

Montoya had this way of pronouncing words that made Delirious uneasy, always making him question if the entire interaction was just an elaborate prank.

“Yeah, whatever,” Delirious grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Clothes off, please.” Montoya reminded him, finding amusement in Delirious's complaints as he took off his hoodie and tugged off the orange jumpsuit.

“So, how've you been feeling lately?” Montoya asked him.

“Healthy as a fuckin' horse,” Delirious mumbled, pulling off his white undershirt and dropping it into the pile of mangled, half-inside-out clothes, and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, that's good. Arms up, please.” Montoya requested, already looking carefully over Delirious's skin, drawn tight over his bones.

With another huff, Delirious complied, making some comment about it being 'cold as fuck', but Montoya wasn't particularly listening. He took Delirious's hands – knobby from hasty relocations and neglected breakages – and turned them over, side-stepped around him, piecing together what he'd been up to over the past two months. It was clear he'd spent a lot more time with Luke this time than usual. That was good news.

Countless scrapes and scars littered Delirious's body – pink, red, and purple scar tissue might have been more commonplace than the pale beige of his skin – but many were slowly fading. Improvement. But Montoya didn't miss the new additions. He gave a little 'tsk', tapping the fresh red dots in Delirious's side with his pen, making him jump. “I see you made a new friend in the station,” Montoya teased.

Delirious scrunched up his mouth. “Yeah, somethin' like that.”

Montoya eyed his neck. “What'd you do here?” But he really didn't need to ask. It was the small, curved imprint of a nail. Most likely an index finger.

“Fuck, man, I dunno.” Delirious growled as Montoya made a note of it.

“Alright, and how's your left shoulder?” Montoya asked.

“It's fine.” Delirious answered curtly.

“Any pain lately?” he inquired.

Delirious shook his head. Montoya glanced up at him. “Any time last week, maybe?”

He saw Delirious bite his cheek. Then he answered stiffly, “Tuesday.” Montoya wrote it down. He had a hunch; After a break in his collarbone years ago, Delirious's shoulder had always been very sensitive to changes in atmospheric pressure. Sure enough, Tuesday had the highest in a while.

“Stretch it all the way up,” Montoya commanded, making the movement himself. Delirious obeyed with a glare.

“Bring it around,” Montoya made a big circle with his right arm, Delirious following. His range of motion was still slightly impaired.

“Does that hurt at all?” Montoya asked.

Delirious shook his head. Montoya reached his hand out to Delirious's shoulder, analyzing the nob in his collarbone where it had healed incorrectly. Judging by his twitch, Delirious still considered it a minor violation of personal space, but Montoya was a bit too fascinated to be concerned.

“Any pain?” he asked, pressing along it. Delirious shook his head again, and Montoya continued to write. He would, of course, have to take into account the inevitability of Delirious lying – very few inmates will admit pain. Although the guards report him being generally cooperative and respectful, things in this room were different. After all, Montoya knew far more about him than the guards did.

After a second, Montoya clicked his pen and pointed it to the far wall. “Alright, step on the scale, please.”

“I wanna put my fuckin' clothes on.” Delirious grumbled, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I'll need your weight without them.” Montoya answered calmly.

“C'mon, how much difference is it gonna make?” Delirious insisted. “It's freezing in here.”

“Well, let me get your weight, then you can put them back on.” Montoya promised him.

Delirious eyed him for a moment, then silently stepped on the scale. Montoya wrote down the digits – still substantially underweight, though a bit heavier than when he'd left – and Delirious immediately went to put on his clothes. Montoya waited without comment. Delirious always gave him hassle over one thing or another, but he didn't mind. It made the day a little more interesting. And he could hardly resist messing with him right back.

“Oh, and I'll need to take your pulse.” Montoya 'remembered', tapping his chart with the pen.

Delirious stared at him. “You can do that through this, right?” he asked, pinching his hoodie.

Montoya looked as if considering it. “Well, you've got the hoodie, the jumpsuit, and the t-shirt.” Then he shook his head. “Nope, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to take it off. Very sorry about that.”

“That's some kinda bullshit!” Delirious complained. “Man, you gotta get your shit sorted!”

Montoya couldn't hold back a pointed smile. “My apologies. You know, people don't usually ask to put everything back on right away.”

“Don't you fuckin' blame this on me, not my fault y'all keep it negative somethin' degrees in here!” Delirious cried.

Montoya simply nodded at him. “Clothes, please,”

Delirious gave a long groan of “Gotta be kidding me,” as he once again pulled off his hoodie, jumpsuit, and t-shirt.

“So, have you been feeling any light-headedness or fatigue lately?” Montoya inquired, sitting down onto a stool.

Delirious looked at him incredulously. “The fuck man, if you wanted a fuckin' interview I could'a kept my shit on!”

Montoya carried on, explaining simply, “Well, I need to make sure I get a good resting heart rate.”

“Takin' off a jacket ain't _exercise!”_ Delirious protested.

“Take a second and calm down. You want this to be over as quickly as I do.” Montoya requested.

“Somehow I fuckin' doubt that,” Delirious grumbled, but Montoya just kept his gaze on the floor, suggesting him to be silent. Delirious's mouth was a tight line. He crossed his arms over his chest. Then Montoya asked again. “Okay. So any light-headedness-”

“No.” he growled.

“Fatigue?” Montoya continued, unfazed.

“No.”

“How many hours of sleep would you say you get every night?” Montoya inquired, eyeing him.

“Man I don't fuckin' know, we ain't got clocks,” Delirious complained.

“Just an estimate will be fine. Are you waking up tired?” he asked.

Delirious shrugged. “Everybody does.”

“I mean _really_ tired. Like about to fall asleep again.” Montoya explained.

Delirious looked up at the ceiling. Maybe thinking. Maybe exasperated. “Yeah, sure. Sometimes.”

“Okay, about how often?” Montoya asked, writing.

“Man, it just – I dunno, it depends.” Delirious sighed.

“Depends on what?” he inquired, looking up.

“Depends on a lotta shit! You know – where I am, what's goin' on, all sorts of stuff.” Delirious ranted, extremely vaguely as Montoya might add. The therapist surely knew more.

“Okay, just one second...” Montoya trailed, gazing over the paper, not actually writing anything, but giving Delirious a moment to calm down again. Then he looked up with a smile and put down the clipboard.

“Alright, pulse.” He lifted the stethoscope from around his neck into his ears. “This'll be a bit cold.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Delirious muttered, his voice creaking like a rusted door. Montoya glanced up at him.

“I _will_ need you to breathe.” he reminded him, unable to keep the smile off his lips. Delirious just glared, and took a measly sniff of air.

Montoya moved the metal disk further down his chest. His skin itself seemed repulsed by the chilly touch. “Deep breaths, please.”

Delirious took in a spiteful whiff of air. 

“Deeper.” 

He took about the most forced, artificial inhale that could ever be taken, until his chest bloated with air, and puffed an exhale that was just pure sarcasm.

“Well, don't pass out now.” Montoya teased.

“Man, Imma fuckin' pass out if I wanna pass out!” Delirious retaliated. Then he blinked. Montoya had a feeling Delirious was realizing how ridiculous he sounded, but he didn't bother pushing it.

Montoya continued moving the disk, with interval murmurs of “Another,” Delirious's breaths becoming slightly less forced each time. 

Montoya replaced the stethoscope around his neck and began to mark his clipboard. “Okay, you can put your clothes on.”

Delirious did so in stiff silence, while Montoya reached to pull toward him the blood pressure monitor. He greeted Delirious's head popped through his shirt with a cheeky, “Your favorite.” Delirious responded with a low groan as he continued pulling on the shirt.

“Keep your arm free,” Montoya reminded him, and Delirious grumbled some obscure threat regarding arms which Montoya elected to ignore.

Montoya pressed air into the cuff, glancing up to see Delirious searching the walls for something to glare at; for a time the poster of the bones of the foot seemed to entertain him, but Montoya noticed that lately he'd either gotten bored of it, or memorized every bone to perfection and no longer had need for it. It did amuse Montoya to imagine him trying to actually _say_ any of those names he'd become so familiar with: _tie-bie-a, tay-lus, cuh-boyd._ Montoya had to keep himself from grinning through the measurement.

“Showing some improvement here,” Montoya noted – though it was still well below average – and Delirious looked to him warily, but Montoya didn't question the change. Although he was well aware that Delirious likely got help from Luke in looking after himself while out of prison, he also knew it to be a sensitive topic. 

Delirious just huffed. “What, gonna try and put me on meds again?”

Montoya began writing, with a distracted, “No, not unless it's necessary,”

Although the main reason Kateb avoid prescribing Delirious medication was because of his susceptibility to dangerous drops in blood pressure, they had also learned to head the warnings from the therapist – the last time they tried, Delirious was moved to maximum security for three weeks, and two guards threatened resignation if they ever had to deal with “that freak” again.

Montoya glanced back up to see Delirious's face warped into a dark glare.

“That supposed to be a threat?” he growled.

Montoya took a moment to choose his words carefully – there seemed to be a tripwire everywhere he looked. “No. By 'necessary' I mean if administration insists.”

In the face of Delirious's deathly gaze, Montoya gave a small, pointed smile. “If it was up to us, we might keep you off medication permanently – though that could end up limiting you, to be honest.”

Delirious raised his chin, looking skeptically down at Montoya. “What kinda limiting?”

Montoya focused on maintaining a calm, natural expression. It had always been an idea floating around the department to get Delirious warmed up to the idea of pills, but at the same time, Montoya had to be careful with what kind of incentive he gave Delirious to take them.

So Montoya kept very vague. He explained, “I'm not in admin, so I don't know the legal side of it. But when inmates have scheduled medication, I've heard they get a longer leash.”

Delirious was silent, still staring through sharp, narrowed eyes. If Montoya was at all unnerved, he didn't show it.

He continued, “If you ever decide you'd like to give them another shot, let us know. We'd be happy to suggest some changes you could make to help limit side effects.”

The side of Delirious's mouth was pulled up in a snarl. “It don't matter. There ain't a point, is there? You ain't foolin' me. You get my 'okay' and you can keep me doped up till I dunno my fuckin' name. Bet I'd be a lot easier to deal with then, huh? No. It's not happening.” he growled.

Montoya took a quiet, deep breath. “You're right, you make some people in administration nervous – nervous enough that Luke is the only person who's allowed to see you. But, if you get a bit of treatment – just a little at a time, nothing debilitating – and administration eases up, and you can request VOs for other people to come visit. I'm sure they'd be happy to see you.”

Montoya watched silently for a moment as the muscles of Delirious's face slowly eased from the tension of anger and disgust; his eyes widened just a bit, twisted lips settling. Under the strictest judgement, what Montoya just did was a big no-no. Essentially no one but the therapist was permitted to make references Delirious's personal life; it tended not to end well. But this seemed a bit different. And even if the therapist heard about this, the man wasn't particularly threatening.

Montoya clicked his pen. “Whatever you choose, keep me posted, okay?” 

Delirious gave a slow nod. An internal conflict was written across his face, expressions of spite and soft pensiveness competing in his features. Montoya gave him a brief moment of silence, during which Montoya pushed the blood pressure monitor back against the wall, Delirious's eyes following with only half-hearted distaste.

“We'll take your reflexes and then we'll be done here, okay?” Montoya informed him kindly, keeping an eye on him in his solemn silence as he reached for the rubber hammer.

It was odd, having Delirious silent. Montoya seen him enough times to know that he could calm down, and even cooperate if Kateb caught him on a good day, but getting him _silent_ was a new one. Montoya couldn't help wondering what the therapist would look like angry, in case he'd somehow _broken_ his patient. In the back of his mind, he began to draft an apology.

“Don't kick me this time,” Montoya chuckled. Even as Delirious's eyes followed his hand's approach to his knee, Montoya knew Delirious must've been off-guard, because he actually smiled.

Although Delirious was probably not voluntarily moving, Montoya was still glad he sat himself out of the way of his swinging feet; the violence of his reflexes never ceased to amaze him.

Montoya turned to scribble on the clipboard with a final, “Alright... and that's it.”

Delirious pushed himself up to stand, followed by Montoya as he put down the clipboard. Before reaching for the handle, Montoya looked back at Delirious. “Let me know what you want to do. We'd be happy to help.”

Delirious seemed to bite his cheek, but gave a curt, “Fine.”

Montoya gave a final smile before opening the door, Nogla waiting patiently on the other side. Delirious passed Montoya a silent sideways glance, caught somewhere between the impulse to scoff and that to nod in goodbye.


	11. The Therapist Can See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious has a psychiatric assessment.

Nogla noticed something was bothering Delirious as soon as he opened the door. Normally, he'd watch as Delirious stomped out of the room shouting something about 'assholes' or 'bitches', and then continue grumbling all the way to his cell. But this time, he was silent. Nogla wasn't sure what to make of that.

“Y'right?” Nogla asked, trying not to let Delirious know just how not-alright he looked.

Delirious nodded, and picked his gaze up off the floor. Then he frowned. “Where we goin'?”

“Therapist's office,” Nogla replied, the tension slowly decreasing.

Delirious huffed. “Man, fuck check-ups.”

Nogla knew it wouldn't do any good to tell him how necessary they were; Delirious already knew that. “Shouldn't take long.” he assured him.

“Better not, I didn't fuckin' sign up for two of these things.” he grumbled.

“Guess you won't have to do it tomorrow,” Nogla pointed out.

Delirious made a 'pft' sound, rolling his eyes. “I got another year in here, man, wastin' time's what you do.”

If he was talking to just about anyone else, Nogla would be able to say that Delirious could use the after-dinner hour tomorrow to do something different. But Delirious was one of few inmates who had to turn up at this little office every day – he never had the hour free. So there really was nothing in it for him.

“Thought you liked the therapist?” Nogla asked.

“How would you know?” Delirious inquired, not quite angry but definitely suspicious.

Nogla shrugged, trying to keep nonchalant. “You never seem pissed off at him, I guess.”

Delirious seemed to be pacified. “He's better than Kateb and Montoya, that's for damn sure.”

“Seems like a nice guy,” Nogla replied.

Delirious nodded, somewhat automatically. He gave a little “Yeah, yeah, for sure,” and Nogla could tell he was distracted. Wondering what information they'd exchanged, perhaps.

“But I dunno, I don't talk to him much. He's a different division and all.” Nogla continued. He hoped that Delirious would assume that meant the therapist never told Nogla anything about him.

Delirious just nodded, still thinking. Nogla spent the next few seconds worrying, but soon enough, Delirious's head was popped up and his usual, wide-eyed alertness was back.

They stopped outside one of the twenty grey doors on the hallway – one of the few that lacked the suffocating frosted glass. Nogla gave a few knocks, and immediately the door opened to reveal the quirky, too-pure-for-this-job therapist, Anthony, smiling on the other side.

“Hi Delirious,” he greeted happily, stepping aside as Delirious gave a nod and entered the room. Nogla went on his way and Anthony closed the door.

“How've you been doing?” Anthony asked as he pulled his chair away from the desk jammed up against the wall, and positioned it in front of Delirious, where he sat with his legs crossed up on the wooden chair. He knew better than to talk to Delirious within two feet of a desk.

Delirious fiddled with his thumbs. “Pretty good.”

Anthony grabbed his clipboard and sat down. “You just had an appointment with Nurse Montoya, right?” 

Delirious nodded. “Yeah.”

“How'd it go?” he inquired. He knew they didn't get along.

“S'okay. He – uh, he was alright.” Delirious answered unsteadily, looking toward the wall. Anthony knew there wouldn't be much eye contact between them for another few sessions.

Anthony smiled. “That's great. So we'll just go through the assessment really quick and you can be on your way.” He looked down at his sheet quickly, then back up at Delirious. “So, we'll start with the basics. How've you been feeling lately?” he asked.

Delirious nodded slowly, thinking. “Been okay.”

“Are you still enjoying your exercise?” he inquired.

Delirious nodded with a bit more certainty. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Okay, that's good. Have you felt any drops in mood lately?” he asked, making a mark on the paper.

Delirious took a moment before carefully answering, “Sometimes.”

Anthony nodded, frowning. “I remember you were having some problems at night, are those still happening?”

Delirious nodded, unblinking.

“How often, would you say? During a week?” Anthony inquired.

Delirious gnawed his lip.

“Once a week?” Anthony offered. Delirious frowned. “Two or three times?” Still, no sound. “Four or five?” Nothing. “About daily, then?” Anthony asked. Delirious cast his eyes at the floor. His head moved in the slightest suggestion of a nod.

“Okay. That's alright. We'll have some more time to talk tomorrow.” Anthony assured him. “What about during the day? Any drops in mood?”

Delirious shook his head. He cleared his throat. “Nah. Not during the day.”

Anthony nodded, smiling. “That's good, that's really good.” He made a note, and looked back up at Delirious. “How about your diet? How've you been eating?”

Delirious raised his eyebrows, still watching the wall for movement. “Luke – uh – had me eatin' real good. Didn't... eat, like, _much _but lots of good shit.”__

__Anthony nodded. “That's great. How about since you've been back?”_ _

__Delirious came to shake his head. “No. Not much here.” Then he gave a small smile. “But the guys got me stuff today, so I – uh – I got a big dinner.”_ _

__“That's really nice of them,” Anthony replied. He took a moment, and gradually Delirious's smile faded. This was everyone's least favorite part. “We're gonna start with the tough questions, now.”_ _

__Delirious gave a rigid nod, as if physically bracing himself._ _

__Anthony tried to ask as kindly as possible. “Are you still experiencing feelings of guilt?”_ _

__When Delirious nodded again, his head hardly moved. But Anthony knew what to look for._ _

__“Can you rate these feelings on a scale of one to five, with one being mild and five being extreme?” he requested._ _

__Delirious's clenched fist didn't at all relax, but spread mechanically across his knee. He raised his five fingers just slightly off of the leg of his jumpsuit._ _

__“Okay. Are you still experiencing nightmares surrounding those events?” Anthony asked carefully._ _

__Delirious's chin gave a quick dip, like a strung-out piece of elastic given a moment's relief._ _

__“How about night terrors?” Anthony inquired, and Delirious's tense frown was asking the 'damn difference'. “With night terrors, you have an obvious physical reaction, but you don't remember it in the morning – but nightmares, you remember. Has Luke mentioned anything?” he offered._ _

__Delirious thought for a second, and slowly shook his head._ _

__Anthony smiled. “Great, that shows some good improvement! It's not necessarily better for getting a good rest, of course, but that's less extreme.”_ _

__Delirious didn't respond, but his jaw seemed to unclench ever so slightly, and that was the most Anthony could ask for._ _

__“What about flashbacks? Are you experiencing any of those?” he inquired._ _

__Delirious pulled a hand heavily to his mouth. “It's... not really – it's just more like...” He squeezed his eyes shut. “It's just – I'm layin' there and... it just won't get out. Just can't think of nothin' else.”_ _

__“Okay. Just to be sure, how does that compare to the flashbacks you were experiencing a few years ago?” he asked, writing._ _

__Delirious shook his head, eyes low. “'S not the same. That was... dunno. That was somethin' different.”_ _

__Anthony glanced up. “Okay, it's good those haven't come back.” He gave a gentle smile. “You've come a long way, I'm really proud of you.”_ _

__Delirious's eyes flickered up to Anthony's for just the briefest moment, but he said nothing._ _

__“Let's talk a little more about during the day. I know the guards see you as being pretty energetic, but how are you feeling?” Anthony asked._ _

__Delirious licked his lips, frowning. “It's not that I ain't happy. Cause I am, it's just... You know, if I can just get myself wrapped up in what's going on, then I don't gotta deal with the other stuff. I don't gotta deal with whatever's-” he tapped his temple, “Deal with this.”_ _

__Anthony nodded. “So real life serves as a kind of distraction?” he offered, and Delirious nodded._ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__Anthony made a note of it. “How effective would you say that is?”_ _

__Delirious shrugged, rubbing his thighs and leaning back for a second. “Works okay. Sometimes I – you know, feel like I mighta scared the shit outta that Lui guy a couple times. But if I can just...” he shut his eyes tight for a second, “If I can just get my head reelin', then it's not that bad.”_ _

__Anthony nodded and gave a quiet, “Okay.” Anthony knew it was hardly a healthy coping mechanism, but there was far more work to be done before he could start a conversation about that._ _

__As Anthony looked over the information he had on Delirious for perhaps the millionth time, it was no wonder why previous doctors had misdiagnosed him with bipolar disorder. He lived fast and reckless, and a psychiatrist who didn't know him well might interpret his actions as part of a manic episode – especially when contrasted with that calm, dark personality that shown through when he was struggling._ _

__But Anthony had more time with him, and he could see this was different; Delirious's 'manic episodes' were mostly voluntary. Anthony just wished that his first doctor had seen that before putting him on medication._ _

__In fact, Delirious seemed to figure out that the medication wasn't doing any good before that psychiatrist did. According to the records, it was discovered that he'd been spitting out everything they'd given him – Delirious admitted he'd only actually swallowed any pills on two occasions – and shortly afterward, the psychiatrist was replaced by another man who put him on intensive CBT. The new regime worked far better, and his records became much more informative. Unfortunately, the previous psychiatrist was extremely unaccommodating for Delirious, and left a terrible impression of prison system administration on him. So while his replacement certainly made substantially more progress, Delirious still refused to open up to him._ _

__However, Anthony got plenty of warning. So by the time his very first assessment with Delirious came around, he had a good idea as to how to come across as more approachable; wearing more casual clothing, moving away from the desk, and simplifying his language just a bit._ _

__Kateb had also been an enormous help in convincing administration to make certain exceptions for the sake of Delirious's stability; letting him keep the hoodie, the replacement of a few guards, and letting Anthony use this hour exclusively for appointments with him. Anthony and Kateb's hardest and most urgent push was for sole use of the name 'Delirious'. Of course, administration was required to use his legal name, but the guards weren't even made aware of it. The system had worked well, except Delirious still held enormous disdain for anyone with a clipboard. Anthony had been very careful to ensure that every time Delirious walked in, he could see that Anthony's only held a blank pad of paper._ _

__Anthony looked up with a small smile. “Okay, we're all done.”_ _

__He stood up, and Delirious shuffled to his feet. Anthony opened the door just as Nogla came walking down the hall, on time as always._ _

__“I'll see you tomorrow,” Anthony chimed, and shook Delirious's hand warmly. Delirious gave a small nod, and began walking with Nogla steadily back to the Raccoon Block._ _


	12. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old face makes a reappearance.

Lui returned to his cell in a herd of orange giants, one of the first back in the block after the group... therapy... _thing,_ whatever it was called. As such, he was a bit surprised to find Delirious already in the cell, apparently deep into another relentless bout of pull-ups, facing the far wall. Lui cleared his throat, finding himself trapped between the hallway and Delirious's back. Delirious promptly released the bar and sat down on his mattress, hunched over as he wiped the nape of his neck.

Lui couldn't help but be a bit apprehensive; it wasn't like Delirious to be quiet. He felt like he should say something.

“You're back quick,” he commented.

To his slight relief, Delirious nodded, lifting his head. “Finished early.” he answered, hulling himself back to lean against the wall. Delirious licked his lips, thinking. “Just so you know, that hour – recreation or whatever – people don't talk about it. It's your own shit.”

Lui nodded, feeling a bit stupid, but Delirious's eyes were closed, head back down. It made sense. Except now Lui couldn't help wonder what went on for Delirious during that hour.

Lui sat down on his mattress, not sure which way to face. He couldn't help remembering what Brock had said – in all the time he'd been in the prison, the guards had never seen him sad. Brock was so nervous about it that he took Lui out of the cell. Lui hoped feebly that he'd come back, knowing it was futile. Whatever happened now, Lui was going to see it.

There were a few moments while the white noise of shuffling and grunting and rustling kept the silence at bay, but soon the prisoners settled, and the cold quiet enveloped the cell. Delirious still held his head in his hands, Lui licking his lips nervously, racking his mind for something to say.

The heavy steps of a guard's boots down the hall nearly made Lui jump. He turned on the mattress to watch as the guard in question stopped in front of the cell across from theirs, pawing through a ring of keys before opening the gate. Lui watched curiously as an inmate emerged, and was escorted by the guard back down the hall. Lui glanced back to see that Delirious had looked up, too.

“What's going on?” Lui asked.

Delirious replied in a low voice, “He's being released,” He immediately jumped up from the bed and threw himself against the bars, waving his arm out the window and giving a loud, cheerful, “Whoop! Show 'em what you're made of, bitch!” Within milliseconds, this launched a chorus of shouts and whistles, the entire hall giving the man an unbridled roar of a sendoff; banging on their gates, bellowing curses and cheers in the same breath.

With the closing of the hall door, the chaos began to settle, and Delirious flopped back onto his bed, seemingly reinvigorated.

Lui leaned on the bars to witness the spectacle, a grin creeping onto his face. He glanced back at Delirious, who seemed to be watching an incredibly immersive television show in the cement ceiling, his arms folded behind his head, reveling in the screams of his success.

“They always do this?” Lui asked curiously.

Delirious's eyes didn't budge from the invisible screen, a wide smile spread across his mouth. “Yeah, Raccoon Block's famous for it.”

Lui turned back to sit down. “You know the guy?”

Delirious shook his head. “Nope. But you don't gotta. He's in the same can as the rest of us, yeah?” He glanced over at Lui as if to make sure he understood, so Lui nodded. Delirious looked back up at his show. “Quickest way to make friends, man – you pretend you already got 'em.”

Lui tilted his head. “Must've been pretty popular in school and stuff,” he pondered aloud.

Delirious gave a cackle. “Nah, learned that bit from Tyler,” and he turned his head to look at Lui again, his grin pointed and eyes dark. “I mean, this look like the face of a prom king?” Close together under the cruel fluorescent lights, Lui had never noticed the plethora of tiny scars littering his face. 

Lui gave half a smile, and Delirious's lips sealed as he twisted back toward the ceiling.

“So... People didn't like you, or..?” Lui questioned.

Delirious's eyes narrowed, gnawing his cheek for a moment. “Yeah.”

“Why not?” he pressed, leaning forward. Lui had never gotten to talk to Delirious about anything too personal – this felt like a once in a lifetime chance.

Delirious's foot twitched. “That's just people, man.” He was quiet for a moment, and Lui was about to pry further, but his voice returned hushed, as if he wasn't sure if he was saying it aloud. “You got a fist, and a part of you wants to use it. Some people look at you and see the right excuse.” Delirious's face suddenly whipped around toward Lui, pointing at him with one hand, rigid determination filling his eyes as he growled, “But you don't save it for an _excuse._ You save it for the asshole who used it first.”

Lui gave a silent nod, though almost entirely for the purpose of shifting Delirious's intense glare. His eyes didn't budge for a moment, and Lui was beginning to wonder if he was supposed to respond, but another second passed and Delirious seemed pacified, curling up slightly on the mattress and closing his eyes.

In his head, Lui knew it was weird, but he couldn't help stealing a glance at Delirious's relaxed face – they lived in the same stone cupboard but he had a weird feeling he wouldn't see it again. He wondered about some of his scars, too; surely he didn't get them in prison. But they definitely seemed like marks from something sharp – maybe someone who didn't have a gun. Kids, maybe? If they were... They weren't just everyday high school bullies. They were prepared.

Lui brought his hands together in his lap, paying a little too much attention to twiddling his thumbs to really kill any time. He figured Delirious would immediately want to start some kind of sadistic exercise ritual before bed, but apparently he wasn't in the mood. For some reason, it didn't seem appropriate to start without him. So he continued to sit, watching some uniformed men come and clean out half of the cell across from them, another inmate laying silent on the opposite bed.

A few moments after the cleaners left, the double doors opened once more, and footsteps again approached. There were some murmurings in the hallways, a couple chuckles. Someone called, “Welcome home,” and a guard shushed him. Lui glanced over at Delirious – his eyes were open now, laying still but vigilant all the same. The footsteps grew ever closer, and just as Lui thought to get a better look, Delirious was on his feet and leaning against the bars, a toothy grin spreading across his face.

Lui barely recognized the profile of the inmate who was led into the newly-cleaned cell. It was... What was his name?

Delirious cackled, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “The owl made it back to his perch!” he laughed.

_Evan,_ that's what it was. He was carrying some kind of book – a sketchbook, maybe? - and a warm smile.

“Well, not the original, but I'll make it work.” Evan replied, glancing back at his new cellmate. “Gotta make a new nest, I guess,”

Delirious rolled his eyes. “What, you wanna straw?” His eyebrows raised suddenly. “Oh fuck, reminds me,” Delirious all but bounced back to the far wall, tearing away the familiar cement piece and grabbing the last half-smooshed pudding cup. With a grin, he returned to the gate.

Seeing it, Evan's eyes lit up. “Oh, man, you can keep it if you want it,” he assured him, but Delirious just clicked his tongue.

“House warming gift,” he insisted, holding it out of the bars. Evan put his hands through the gate, and Delirious tossed it to him.

Pulling the cup past the bars, Evan looked down at it for a moment, then back up at Delirious. His mouth quivered a bit in his smile. “Thanks, man.”

Delirious shrugged and plopped himself down on the cement ground. “Was always yours,”

“Still,” Evan muttered, giving Delirious one last glance before looking around the room, seemingly for a place to put it, satisfied to push it under the bed.

Delirious frowned. “Not gonna eat it?”

Evan put himself on the ground too, pulling in his knees. “I'm gonna save it,” he replied contentedly, like a child insisting his pencil belonged safe in a shoebox because his crush touched it.

Delirious nodded, respecting the logic though not understanding it. He held the toes of his shoes in his hands. “You have fun in max?” he teased.

Evan chuckled. “Yeah, totally. Catch up with the regulars, you know.” He trailed off a bit, looking behind him at the book he'd put on the bed, continuing more quietly, “Got a couple things done, too.”

Delirious sat up a little straighter. “Really? Can I see?” he asked excitedly.

Evan kept his eyes on the book, rubbing the back of his neck, unsure. “I dunno, man, they're not very good.”

Delirious rolled his eyes. “Bullshit, man. Show me,” he demanded, still wearing a moderately-devilish smile.

Evan thought for another moment, Delirious contributing to the ambiance with short chants of “come on come on come on”. It didn't take long for Evan to sigh, reach up to grab the sketchbook, and push it under the gate.

Delirious gave a delighted, _“Yes!”_ before taking up the book and flipping carefully through countless pages: light sketches of forms and faces; long-winded paragraphs that tipped downward as they forgot their invisible guiding lines; bold resurrections of fading masterpieces – like old friends to Delirious's shining eyes.

Evan was holding his elbow tightly. “You don't have to go through them all again,” he murmured.

Delirious gave a wide grin, though his eyes didn't budge. “You try and fuckin' stop me,” he replied with a laugh.

Up on the mattress, Lui debated back and forth whether he should scoot up to see the sketchbook, but the nervous twitching of Evan's feet and the restlessness of his gaze convinced him to stay back.

Near the end of the book, Delirious found the last drawing he recognized – it was one of his most elaborate pieces yet, and was the result of Delirious's suggestion to attempt drawing real people. With unfathomable detail, the image depicted the interior of a bus Evan used to take to work, though replacing all the crusty, hung-over bus-goers with people from the prison: Craig sat at the wheel with panic in his eyes, completely unqualified to drive according to Tyler's frantic rage at having hit a fire hydrant with the back end, which spewed a massive jet of water in the back mirror; Brian was just visible in the next booth, to which he did his best to secure himself, quite possibly wondering why seatbelts are not standard issue in rattling sweatboxes like these; Delirious didn't seem even slightly bothered, standing between the rows with a wicked grin and attempting to surf the wide turns and potential roll-overs; Evan was half-hunkered down in a near booth, barely holding on but mentally prepared to grab Delirious in the event of a particularly sharp corner.

Delirious took an extra moment to appreciate this one, though he could sense the tension radiating off of Evan as his fingers brushed the next page. He considered taking one more look up before flipping it, but figured the suspense was tortuous enough for him already.

Delirious chuckled. “Dunno what you get all nervous about,”

Evan didn't respond, and Delirious turned the page, beginning to thoughtfully peruse the work Evan had done the last few months. A while ago, he'd decided to venture beyond his traditional cartoon-ish style and tap into a bit of realism, and it was coming along well – hair was given a bit more thought, shading was more purposeful. Delirious flipped between some of his recent drawings and older ones for comparison; he really was making a lot of progress.

Lui sat restlessly on the mattress. Just a peek couldn't hurt, right? Evan wasn't even looking at Delirious now, he was staring straight to his left, apparently trying to distract himself with a cement wall.

Lui leaned over to look at the page. The current one was positioned toward the front of the book, and showed four faces, all facing forward, nearly identical save some changes in shading.

He blinked. The features were vaguely familiar – and so were those short, faint marks scattered across the cheeks and forehead. He asked quietly to Delirious, “Are those... you?”

Delirious grinned, nodding. “Yeah. I was sharing a cell with him when he first started wanting to draw real people. Had to deal with _this_ as a fuckin' reference,” he chuckled, pointing to his own face.

“You were cellmates?” Lui questioned.

Delirious nodded again. “'S how we met.” Delirious flipped forward a decent chunk of pages, with a giddy, “But check this out,”

On the far newer page that Delirious held, there were another four faces – all very similar, but this time absolutely, _unmistakably_ Delirious. They almost looked more like a photograph than a drawing.

Lui raised his eyebrows. “Woah,”

Delirious turned to him with a grin. _“Right?”_ He turned again to face Evan, who'd since kept a careful eye on him and Lui. “Man, that's what I get for being away, you forgot what I look like! This guy looks _way_ too good to be me!” he laughed.

Evan cracked a grin, and Delirious shook his head, looking back down at the sketchbook. Lui glanced quickly between the book and Evan, wondering if he could get away with continuing to lean casually toward the book, but Delirious caught on.

He gave a quiet, “Might not want you lookin',” and Lui shuffled back with a small sigh.

Delirious continued pawing through the pages. “Damn, this is awesome,” he giggled, reading some skits Evan had summarized: one about a squad of soldiers getting wrapped up in the crazed antics of an ex-Air Force pilot struggling to cope with his discharge, and another about a kindergarten field trip run by a complete maniac of a teacher – the latter he then drew into a short comic.

Evan seemed to know exactly how many pages in he would have to say, “Don't like that one,”

Delirious rolled his eyes. This one was unfinished, with the crude dents of eraser marks across the top half. Still, the drawing wasn't half bad – it was an attempted owl, but something about its features just wasn't quite right.

Evan immediately began to explain. “I was gonna do an owl and then – I, uh, kinda forgot what owls look like.” he muttered.

Delirious burst out laughing. “You _forgot?”_ he cried. “You been in here a long time, for sure, but how'd you forget what your own species looks like?”

Evan grinned. “Shut up, man! When was the last time you saw a fuckin' owl?” he demanded.

Delirious's cackle gradually tapered off. The detail Evan had put into the feathers was actually pretty remarkable; he must've been really frustrated when the face didn't pull through – explains the dents.

Delirious seemed to sense that Evan's shifting was more unsettled while he was on this page, so he continued onward. He was reaching the end of the sketchbook, only a few darkened edges remaining until the plain, unused white reappeared. 

Delirious grinned. “This looks familiar,” he cackled. The drawing showed the view from inside a room, with a gate and bed, as always impeccably detailed – the only things seen from inside a maximum security cell.

“Which one?” Evan asked, dragging his eyes away from the wall to see Delirious turn the book to show him. Evan gave a knowing smirk. “Yeah, go figure.” He rubbed his arm, compelled to explain, “Wasn't much inspiration in max sec,”

Delirious nodded with understanding. He flipped the page once more. It was another room, but this one wasn't familiar. There were some bookshelves, a window, someone sitting facing a wall in the corner... and a guitar?

Delirious frowned, and turned the book again. “What's this?” he inquired.

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Oh, that's the music room.”

Delirious blinked and glanced again at the drawing, as if it had some kind of explanation. Although, that did explain the person facing the wall – a piano, Delirious guessed. “There's a music room?” he asked, baffled. How much of this prison had he _not_ seen?

Evan adjusted himself once more, getting more comfortable. “Yeah. They finished it while you were out. It's only open during the rec hour,” he replied.

Delirious gave a slow nod, and looked back up at Evan. “What do you play in there?” he asked curiously.

Evan rubbed his neck, again avoiding his gaze. “Well, I used to play the guitar on the outside. I'm trying to pick it back up,” he answered quietly, as if it was something to be ashamed of.

Delirious grinned. “That's awesome, man! Imma see if I can come by some day. You can serenade me,” he giggled.

Evan smiled. “Sure man, I'll play you an hour's worth of Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

Delirious chuckled, giving a low, “True gentleman,” as he shook his head and flipped through the last few pages.

“You ask for a new book yet?” Delirious inquired, gazing over a page full of sketched hands that grew increasingly natural as they descended down the page; Delirious never really understood how Evan just picked things up like that.

“Yeah. Brock's gonna get me some new pencils, too.” Evan answered.

“Spoiled bitch,” Delirious remarked with a smile, getting to the end of the sketchbook – the last page was incomplete, just a collection of careful circles and vague outlines, incomprehensible to anyone but Evan.

“You're one to talk about spoiled!” Evan laughed, “Mr. I Can Wear a Hoodie Cause Fuck You,”

Delirious gave a loud cackle, but didn't have much to counter it with other than a half-hearted “Shut up!”

Delirious took a quick glance to the next page to make sure he didn't miss anything, then pushed it back under the gate to Evan. “Looks damn good man, like fuckin' always.” was his final assessment.

Evan took up the notebook with a contented smile and a quiet, “Thanks.”

As Delirious moved to hop back up to a stand, an quick electric buzz – it seemed to pose only a minor threat of electrocution – zipped through the cells before the crashing darkness of lights-out.

There was some shuffling, then Evan's voice saying, “Night.”

Then Delirious's low, “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”


	13. Night 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delirious dreams of his first night in prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCK I'M STUPID.
> 
> I just straight up, dead-ass, forgot to publish this chapter. What the actual fuck.
> 
> I'm so sorry.

Night 4

There was a harsh whisper. “Delirious?”

What? What was this?

“Delirious, you okay?” Delirious tried to think – as much as he could, trapped in the daze of a dream. He didn't recognize this. This didn't make sense. It wasn't Luke's voice. 

“Delirious, come out. What are you doing?”

Delirious's face turned to the right, eyes finally open.

Oh.

It was Evan's face, bewildered and on its side. Delirious was laying on the floor, he remembered, and it was cold on his back. His gaze moved up, where he saw nothing but pitch black nothingness. His arms fumbled to sit him up, but his head hit something plush above him. He was under the bed.

This was years ago – his first stay in the prison, his second night. Delirious thought he knew all the dreams he'd ever have, but this one was new. He never thought he'd live through this scene again. 

Delirious's weary voice was asking, “What's going on? What happened?” His dream mind was beginning to reel, and he had to reign in the panic of his breathing, and consciously remind himself not to thrash.

Evan shrugged. “I dunno, you crawled under the bed. You wanna... come out?”

Anthony's voice rang in his mind, something he said about night terrors – _an obvious physical reaction._ It was obvious, alright.

Delirious immediately began to shuffle himself out from where he'd somehow unconsciously wedged himself, and the protective veil of dreaming did nothing to spare him from the bombardment of thoughts that now overwhelmed him.

_What the fuck was that? What is wrong with you? You look pathetic. Crawling under the bed, really? You woke him up in the middle of the night sniveling like a brat, this guy you don't even know. Fuck knows who else heard you. Now he's gotta be nice and take pity on your weak baby ass because_ someone _can't do anything right even when they're fucking asleep._

“Hey, are you okay?” Evan's quiet voice cracked through his thoughts, and Delirious looked up at him. He sat on the cement floor, a hand on his shoulder, looking at him very seriously.

Delirious didn't know what to say. He didn't remember a thing, but his hands trembled, and he'd never felt so exposed in all his life. He felt like a child, scared of the dark, and for all his blinking, he couldn't keep the blur out of his eyes. His throat threatened to strangle him itself.

He'd felt this before. There was only one thing that ever made it right. But he wasn't here.

Evan sat in front of him, silent and just as baffled as Delirious, but apparently he didn't have to know what to say. He shifted himself to lean against Delirious's mattress, and put one arm around his thin shoulders.

Delirious felt himself lean against Evan's side, turning his head as if to avoid some bright lights or prying eyes. He stayed here for a while, focusing on his breathing, imagining he was back home, imagining that the last few months had just been a bad dream – that he would open his eyes, and he'd be laying on a couch in a small, untidy house where only one person in the world knew where he was. That he'd just taken a nap and he needed to wake up now. 

Slowly, slowly, his hands slowed in their shaking, and he managed to heave a long, heavy breath. His eyes only open a crack, he felt Evan's hand hold the side of his head for just a moment, and then release him. Delirious came to sit up straight, rubbing his eyes.

Evan's voice was just a whisper. “You wanna go back to sleep?” 

Delirious shook his head. “No,” he muttered. He didn't feel in the slightest like he needed to lie – not when this man had already found him huddled up under the bed. Whatever charade he was planning was over. 

“Okay.” Delirious felt Evan's hand touch the back of his head just briefly, then there was some rustling as Evan stood. “Hey, wanna see a trick?”

Delirious looked up, just barely making out Evan offering him a hand. He took it, standing, and Evan vanished in the direction of the gate.

“It's a secret.” Evan told him, perhaps over his shoulder, and Delirious could hear the smile in his voice. There were a few clinks and clunks, and then a slow _creak._

Evan gave a final “Sh,” and Delirious felt his eyebrows raise as he realized that Evan was carefully easing the cell gate open.

“How'd you do that?” Delirious whispered harshly, amazed.

“It's a secret,” Evan repeated with a stifled laugh. “C'mon. Wanna get something from the kitchen?”

Delirious felt himself grinning. “Fuck yeah I do!”

There was rustling as Evan slipped through the gate, and Delirious made careful steps forward, keeping one hand on his mattress and another out in front of him until he felt the cold metal at his fingertips.

“Go ahead, I got it.” Evan's voice assured him, and Delirious crept through the gap, again keeping his hand on the wall. He tried hard to focus on the vague outline that must have been Evan as he gingerly let the door settle back into its latch, though he only caught the occasional glimpse of something that _might_ be moving. He might have been standing up now.

“Okay, let's go.” Evan's whisper rang faintly through the halls.

The darkness was dense and dizzying. Delirious could only barely make out the shape of Evan as he turned toward the double doors, but one step and he was out of view. Delirious stretched one hand out in front of him blindly.

“Evan?” he whispered into nothing.

“Right here,” Evan answered immediately, and Delirious nearly jumped when the fabric of Evan's shirt suddenly appeared under his fingers. “You alright?”

“Can't see shit,” Delirious muttered.

“Really?” Evan asked with a breathy chuckle.

“You _can?”_ Delirious was too unsteady where he stood to be either annoyed or curious.

“A little. You remember the way to the cafeteria?” Evan asked.

Delirious shook his head uselessly, gnawing his cheek. “Uh, not really.”

“'Kay, just... here,” Evan murmured, and Delirious had to force himself not to flinch as he felt Evan find his hand. “Don't let go, yeah?”

“Okay,” Delirious agreed, feeling substantially less likely to fall over, but more than a little childish as Evan led him through the halls.

The two of them were silent, aside from Evan's occasional noting of a door and a promise to hold it open. Otherwise, an eery, creaking silence plagued the halls. Delirious, locked in a mind that was still unfamiliar with the prison's twists and turns – and equally unfamiliar with Evan – couldn't help feeling that he was being led through a cold, cement maze by an invisible pull to his left hand.

“We're almost there,” a whisper assured him. Delirious wanted to give some kind of response, but his lips felt somehow sealed.

Only a few more turns, and Delirious suddenly had a faceful of Evan's back.

“Sorry,” Delirious muttered, forcing the word past the glue on his lips.

There was no answer. The hand around his was quickly gone, and there were a few clinks, then the quiet whine of old hinges. 

“Okay. Go in and I'll turn on the light,” Evan murmured.

Delirious shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure. “Can't you just turn it on now?” he questioned, trying to keep his tone casual.

“They've got cameras everywhere, you gotta keep it dark in the halls.” Evan explained patiently. “Go on in.”

There was quiet rustling as Delirious made some tentative steps forward. He shuffled slowly, holding his arms out in front of him, cautiously tracing the wall, to the doorframe, then finding some metal shelving inside.

“'Lil further. It's a straight shot. It's narrow though, watch your hands.” Evan reassured him, and Delirious took a few more steps in. The low whine came again from behind him, and Delirious whipped around on instinct before he even realized it, immediately sending something clattering to the floor. Delirious bit his tongue before he could squeak, but apparently it didn't fool Evan, judging by the chuckle.

“Relax, hard part's over. Might wanna cover your eyes, this thing's really bright.”

With a huff, Delirious closed his eyes. There was a click, a buzz, and suddenly his vision was bleached even under his eyelids.

“The fuck!” he had to scream though a whisper, rubbing his eyes.

Evan's laugh was stifled as he advised, “Yeah, use your hands next time.”

“Well now I fuckin' know,” Delirious grumbled, and gradually tore his hands away from his eyes, leaving his gaze muddled and blurry.

“Desserts are over in the back, left side.” Evan informed Delirious, already scoping out the prize.

Delirious walked ahead, finding a box of pre-packaged cookies. He grabbed one and sat down against the wall.

“Only one?” Evan questioned, grabbing three and sitting down beside him.

Delirious shrugged. “Not hungry,” he answered, opening it. He looked over to see Evan putting them in his pockets.

“Fuckin' hypocrite, you ain't havin' any?” he demanded.

Evan grinned. “I'm a dealer, not a user.”

Delirious rolled his eyes and took a bite, with a mutter of, “Yeah, you look the fuckin' type.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?!” Evan laughed.

Delirious pointed to Evan's face, and swallowed quickly. “Can't trust those eyes. Those are schemin' eyes.”

“Man, don't make this a race thing,” but Evan could hardly keep a straight face. “I'm as trustworthy as they come,”

Delirious raised his eyebrows and threw his arm in the direction of the pantry door. “You call that shit trustworthy?! What even was that?”

Evan laughed, but couldn't refute the logic.

Delirious shook his head. “Really though, how'd you do that?” he asked, taking another bite.

Evan shrugged. “Practice. Do weird stuff when you're bored.”

“No kidding,” Delirious muttered quietly through the cookie. “You been in here a long time then?”

Evan gave a slow nod, his eyes distant. “In and out, you know.”

“What for?” Delirious asked, wiping his mouth with his shirt.

Evan gave half a grin, looking over at Delirious. “That kinda question'll get you in trouble, man.” he warned.

Delirious smirked. “But I ain't in trouble, huh?”

Evan's eyes narrowed. “You sure about that?”

“A'ight, look at your hands.” Delirious ordered. Confused, Evan held out his right hand. “And look at mine.” Delirious held up his hand. Just like it always was – nails worn half to nothing, knuckles thick with with crude callouses and pink scars. Evan had an accountant's hands, untouched by anything tougher than a keyboard.

Evan rolled his eyes. “Alright well, still. Be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Delirious shrugged, waving him off. “So tell me.”

“Nah, it's lame.” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Aw. But now I _gotta_ know.” Delirious whined, holding the toes of his socks in his hands. 

Evan gave a small sigh, smile warm again. “Boring stuff. Identity theft, fraud, scamming, just plain old shoulder-surfing. Honestly, I've probably tried just about every way there is to get money out of a bank account without ever actually going into a bank.”

Delirious nodded, understanding. “What's shoulder-surfing?” he asked.

“Just seeing a person's PIN when they're typing it in. Wouldn't believe how easy some people make it,” Evan explained, rolling his eyes, then grinned. “Though to be honest, I'd be out of here most of the time if I quit pulling shit like this while I'm in,”

Delirious shrugged. “May as well, gonna end up back in anyway.”

Evan nodded, and then looked over at Delirious. “I'd ask about you, but you seem like you've been in the system a long time.”

Delirious glanced at him, and then slowly nodded. “Yeah. Juvie and all that shit.”

“How old, when you started?” Evan asked, watching him from the corner of his eye. “Don't have to answer.”

Delirious contemplated it – fully convinced himself not to at one point – and then suddenly blurted, “Eleven.”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“Should've been sooner.” Delirious muttered into another bite.

“Should've done it or should've been caught?” Evan questioned, voice cautious and steady.

He swallowed. “Done it.” he spat. “Could've saved someone a lotta pain.”

“What'd you do?” Evan had to ask.

Delirious felt his brow crease into a glare. “Not enough.” But he knew it wasn't an answer. “Three assholes. Six casts between 'em.”

Delirious's gaze was narrowed on the shelves stocked with ambiguous cardboard boxes, Evan's expression just out of view.

“Just you?” Evan questioned, and the words were almost too low to be from the same person.

Delirious could tell he was being assessed. It was that clinical kind of fear, he could smell it in the air. He'd learned the scent in juvie, and to this day, everyone with a shiny badge and a big metal desk reeked of it. He looked back at Evan, whose narrow eyes were focused on every feature of his face at once. There was that skepticism, that coldness in his gaze that seemed to keep him at an arm's distance. Delirious didn't think the expression suited him at all – at least, not when he was looking at _him._

So Delirious smiled, flashing a toothy grin. “I just do what I gotta do, you know? I ain't prowlin' the streets looking for someone's head to rip off.”

Evan's eyes softened. Delirious could've sighed with relief. “Yeah, I get that.” he replied simply, nodding.

Delirious popped the remains of his cookie in his mouth, munching contentedly as Evan pulled himself up to stand. He watched curiously as Evan started taking down boxes from the shelf.

Wiping his mouth, Delirious asked, “Lookin' for something?”

“They're supposed to have pudding cups around here somewhere. Can't find 'em though.” Evan muttered. Delirious stood up to help investigate.

“Uh, is it like... critical?” he questioned, taking down a box. 

Evan clicked his tongue. “Not really... Kinda want one, though.” he admitted quietly.

Delirious glanced over at him, surprised. “You gonna eat it?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah. Pudding's the only exception.” he answered, getting to the last box back, and beginning to begrudgingly slide all the removed boxes onto the shelf.

“You sure they're gonna be in here?” Delirious asked, having to blindly stick his arm into the gap in the boxes to wedge the next one out with his fingertips.

Evan pulled his mouth to the side, thinking. “Should be. They get them in about every two weeks, but they missed a shipment last time. But if they missed another one, I swear to god,” he grumbled.

“We'll have words,” Delirious finished, successfully extracting the next, ultimately disappointing cardboard box.

Evan nodded, crouching to start on the next row down. “Exactly.”

Delirious stretched his arms up to the top shelf, fingers only just brushing the box. With a huff, he picked up a foot and planted it firmly on the lower shelf, and was about to heave himself up when he felt Evan's hand on his arm, pulling him down.

“Hold on, hold on. The shelves are really weak.” he explained, lacing his fingers together.

“You tryin'a say I'm fat?” Delirious demanded, crossing his arms in mock offense.

Evan rolled his eyes, smiling. “I mean, if you _wanna_ wreck the place and get every goddamn guard around storming in here...”

Delirious gave a small cackle and a low, “Alright, alright,” as he stepped into Evan's hands, steadying himself with one hand on the shelf and one hand in his hair. He reached up, but still couldn't get a good grip, trying desperately to worm his fingers between the edges of the cardboard. For some reason, these boxes seemed impossible to budge compared to the other ones.

“Is it heavy?” Evan asked from under him.

“Yeah, what the fuck's in these things?” Delirious muttered, attempting to get his hand under the box, but again to no avail, only managing to crush his fingers on the metal rods of the shelf.

“Here, lemme try.” Evan offered, beginning to lower Delirious's foot steadily to the ground.

“Yeah, sure,” Delirious sighed, rubbing his aching hands together as he stepped down. He was getting ready to give Evan a boost when he noticed him suddenly walking away down the aisle. Confused, Delirious watched as Evan took a turn and re-emerged with a step-stool.

Delirious blinked, bewildered, and threw his hands up. “Why didn't you get that before!” he laughed.

Evan just shrugged, smiling sheepishly. He set the stool under the box, stepped up, and quite easily slid it from the shelf and carried it down.

Delirious crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. “Well goddamn, just put you in charge of everything, huh?”

Evan grinned as he opened up the box, but it readily fell from his face as he revealed nothing but an array of tightly-packed cans of soup.

“Damn,” Evan grumbled, closing up the box.

Leaned against the wall, Delirious slid himself back onto the ground and folded his legs to his chest.

“Sorry man,” he murmured, watching Evan smoothly replace the box.

“It's cool,” Evan replied with a shrug, and put away the step-stool.

“Wanna grab something else?” Delirious suggested.

Evan shook his head, and leaned against the wall beside Delirious. “Nah, I'll just get something from the shop tomorrow.

Delirious blinked up at Evan. “There's a shop? What's it got?”

Evan seemed to think for a second, then answered, “Mostly candy and cigarettes. Think you can get magazines in there, too.”

Delirious's eyes went wide. “Fuck, I wanna get some candy. They keep it in here?” he asked, already peering down the aisle.

There was a smile in Evan's voice. “Nope, they store everything behind the counter. And the guy running it would get in trouble if stuff went missing.”

Delirious pulled his mouth to the side. “He cool?” he inquired, looking back up at Evan.

He nodded. “Yeah, he's a friend of mine.” Evan seemed to chew on his cheek for a second before slowly continuing, “You... should come sit with us at breakfast.”

Delirious was picking at his thumb. “Think he'd... y'know, be alright with that?” he questioned quietly.

Evan nodded, and his words were more confident this time. “Yeah, for sure.” He thought for a second before adding, “Honestly, it's safer not to sit alone.”

Delirious nodded, understanding. Even in this dream state, Delirious remembered similar scenes in juvie. Except back then, _he_ was the big scary one – he didn't have to worry about it. But this wasn't juvie.

Delirious kept his eyes on the box in front of him as Evan, too, slid himself down to sit beside Delirious. They were silent for a moment before a thought occurred to Delirious. He looked to Evan with a frown. “So you use cash at the store, or..?”

Evan shook his head. “They use credits – you'll have to go to the Jobs Office to get signed up for work.”

Delirious blinked. “Where's that?”

Evan shrugged. “I can show you at lunch tomorrow.”

He nodded slowly. “Cool. So like... what kind of work is there?”

Evan bit his lip for a second, trying to remember. “I think there's some places in the kitchen, and groundskeeping... Tyler's already got the one in the store...”

“What job do you have?” Delirious asked.

“Groundskeeping, they're always taking people for that,” he replied, continuing bitterly, “No one stays for very long – it's always hot and it can be fucking exhausting. Like right now, they're replacing all the grass with rocks, so we've gotta haul all the dirt out and all the rock in all around the prison.”

Delirious nodded, understanding. “Explains all _this_ bullshit,” he noted, gesturing to Evan's body.

Evan looked down at himself like he'd spilled red wine down his shirt. 

“What?” he questioned, perplexed.

Delirious laughed. _“This!”_ he repeated, grabbing Evan's bicep and shaking it like he was trying to wake him up.

“Ooh,” Evan chuckled as Delirious punched his shoulder with a grin. He shook his head. “That's just from doing stuff in the cell.”

Delirious raised an eyebrow. “What kinda stuff?”

Evan shrugged. “Lots of stuff, you don't need equipment or anything. I can show you some tomorrow if you want – it kinda helps pass the time.”

Delirious nodded, grinning. “Yeah, for sure. Beats feeling all cooped up and shit.”

Evan thought for a second. “You know, if you want something active, you could try groundskeeping. Gets you moving for sure,” he wondered aloud.

Delirious gave another slow nod. “Yeah, yeah, that could be cool.”

Evan put his hands to the floor and pushed himself up to stand, stretching his arms out in front of him. On cue, Delirious started pulling his legs in, and Evan held out a hand to him. Delirious took it with a mutter of “Thanks,” and hulled himself up.

“Think you'll quit soon?” Delirious asked as Evan began unlocking the door again.

Evan shrugged. “I dunno. I might stick around if you wanna join. See what happens.”

A final click and the door was unlocked. Evan flicked off the light, and Delirious was blind once more.

The door gave a slow whine as it opened. There was a low murmur of “C'mon out,” and Delirious began walking, feeling the smooth concrete break to the metal of the doorframe, and finding the wall on the opposite side. There was the creak of the door as it was gently replaced, and the quiet metallic scuffling of Evan locking it again. Delirious didn't have a second to worry before Evan took his hand once more, and they began steadily back down the dark corridor.


	14. Hail to the Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan receives a proper welcome. Lui gets to know Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :} Sorry.

The next morning, when the gates scraped open like rusted metal nails on a pained cement chalkboard, Delirious was already on his feet, and at the first instant he could possibly worm himself from the cell, sprinted into Evan's.

“Wake up, bitch! Rise and shine!” he cackled, all but pouncing onto the grumbling mass that resided under the thin, faded summertime blanket.

“Delirious, you're gonna get in trouble being in here,” Evan chided him, his words stretched and low, punctuated with a long, drowsy yawn.

“Well then get a fuckin' move on and I won't!” Delirious insisted, taking Evan by the arm. Evan let himself be dragged off the wire mattress, taking the jumpsuit as Delirious handed it him and tugging it on.

Delirious smoothed Evan's hair and gave a grin. “Let's fuckin' do this!” he cried, as if they were marching into a boss fight and not the cafeteria. Stepping back into the hall, Delirious waved Lui over from where he stood, stretching his arms over his head and watching the two of them with distant skepticism.

Delirious paraded them, one hooked on each arm, down the corridor and through the double doors, straight to the table that no one else dared to sit at, regardless of how crowded it was. Delirious took a seat, and Lui was about to join him when Delirious shooed him away, insisting he go and get something to eat.

Standing in line beside Evan, Lui wasn't entirely sure what to talk about – or if they should talk about anything. Aside from maybe Tyler, Evan was one of the biggest guys in their group, and Lui had been in prison long enough to take that as a warning. Even so, none of Delirious's friends were really threatening – but Lui didn't want to take a chance.

It wasn't ten seconds seconds before an ice-breaking God-send came running up behind them and clapping Evan's back – Craig.

“Evan! I've been shouting for you for ages!” he laughed. “How you doing?”

Evan grinned. “Oh sorry man, didn't hear you.” He shrugged. “Max sec... kinda sucked. But I'm across from Delirious now, so that's cool,” he replied.

Craig raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? That's lucky as hell,”

Evan glanced quickly at Lui before continuing, more quietly, “Well, Brock put in a word for me,”

Lui blinked, surprised, but Craig just shook his head with a knowing smile. “That guy,”

Evan leaned in a bit, his voice hushed to nearly a whisper as he continued, “I know. I didn't even ask him to. He found out someone was leaving and immediately was like, 'I know just the guy'.” 

“What a fuckin' sweetheart.” Craig beamed.

Lui could hardly believe he was hearing this – high, endearing praise – from two beefy inmates, about a _guard._ He'd had his fair share of talks with Brock, as well – he was the only person Lui had really interacted with before Delirious came to share his cell. He definitely a nice guy, but there was something... _different_ about him, about the way he interacted with the guys. It was like he knew them personally. Like he was on their side.

Lui looked to Craig, the curiosity poking at him. “Why's Brock like that?” he asked.

Craig stared at Lui, confused. “You mean like, nice?”

“Nice to _us,_ like, specifically.” he explained.

Craig glanced to Evan, but Evan didn't seem to have any input, his gaze cautious but impartial. So Craig looked back to Lui and began carefully, “Brock... knows Delirious pretty well.”

Lui frowned. “How?” he prodded.

Craig rubbed the nape of his neck, glancing back to where Delirious's blue hoodie flashed in a jumbling mess of orange. “That's kind of personal to Delirious. You should probably ask him instead.” Craig advised, and Evan gave a supporting nod.

Lui followed Craig's gaze to the blue hoodie, watching curiously as he dealt out nudges and grins to Brian and a few unfamiliar faces as they came past his table.

“So how do you guys know?” Lui asked, looking between Craig and Evan.

“I only know cause Brock mentioned it,” Craig explained, but it left Evan without an explanation of his own.

Evan pulled his mouth to the side, trapped under Lui's prying gaze. “Delirious used to be a lot more open about... stuff.” he explained shortly.

“Why'd that change?” Lui pressed.

Evan gave a tense shrug. “Prison changes you.” he answered, and a silence wafted over the three of them. The words hung heavily in the air as they all seemed to recognize this as the end of the conversation. 

After a moment, Evan cleared his throat, nodding toward Craig. “Aren't you here kinda late?” he asked.

Craig's face immediately lost its solemn weight, gleefully continuing onto a different subject. “Yeah, Brian and I were taking Tyler to the infirmary – he's sick.”

Evan frowned. “It's not a cold, is it?” he inquired.

Craig shook his head. “Nah, it's just a stomach thing.”

Evan nodded, understanding, but Lui was lost. “Why's that better?” he asked.

Craig answered, “It won't spread,”

“Yeah – if it's contagious, they start tearing apart the block and cleaning everything.” Evan explained.

“He'll be quarantined though, just in case.” Craig added.

Picking up trays and some food-esque substances, Evan took a glance back at Delirious before picking up a second roll and drink – no one batted an eye.

Walking back, Lui found Delirious sitting on the table, talking to an inmate he didn't recognize.

“When I get home I'm gonna make myself a real dinner, none of this dry-ass wafer shit. I'll go out and catch myself somethin' pretty and make myself a feast on the water,” the inmate was telling Delirious proudly.

Delirious raised an eyebrow. “You ain't gonna eat while you're out in the ocean, are you? With all the sharks around?”

The inmate blinked. “What? Course. Ain't no harm in that.”

Delirious's eyes went wide. “Hell no, you can't bring food out in the ocean, you're gonna get fuckin' eaten! I heard stories about that!” Delirious cried.

The inmate looked more amused than convinced. “What kinda stories?” he asked, humoring him.

“There was this one guy. He went out fishing in this little sailboat with his lunch, he had a whole bunch'a food with him. And there was sharks everywhere, you know, think it was mating season or somethin', and you can see all these little fins pokin' out of the water. And the man, he's just trying to eat his goddamn lunch and these sharks start knocking the boat. Start tippin' it. And he can't sail away, right, cause there's no wind. But the sharks are knockin' it so hard the guy drops his cheeseburger into the water. And the sharks fuckin' _go_ for it.”

Walking up, Evan took the opportunity to grab Delirious's flying hand and put a roll in his fist. The story continued seamlessly.

“And for a sec they're all distracted, and he thinks he's gonna be okay. But they munch it all up, and they go back to knockin' at the boat. So the guy starts throwin' all his food overboard, you know, trying to kill time 'til the wind picks up and he can get the fuck outta there. But he runs outta food. And the sharks start hitting the boat so hard, he _falls out._ And they fuckin' _chomp_ 'im to _bits!”_

Lui could count about seven things that were completely beyond the range of reality, but only Evan piped up.

“But if he died, how would anyone know about it?” he inquired, with a facade of innocence that Lui could smell from a mile away.

Delirious started to speak, and cut himself short, as if only then realizing what Evan was saying. He blinked. Lui wasn't sure what to expect, really – would he be mad? But Evan knew him well enough not to get him angry.

Lui's nerves settled as a wide, open-mouthed smile dawned across Delirious's face, and he gave a snapping firecracker of a laugh.

“Ha! Man, that's true!” he beamed, and turned back to the inmate to deal a light punch to his shoulder. “Go on, eat,” he chuckled, and slipped down from the table, onto the bench.

It wasn't long before Brian came to join them, at which point Delirious turned and threw his fist down on the table a few times, raising his bread to make a grand, strangely ceremonious declaration: “Attention all motherfuckers!”

Silence diffused across the cafeteria. A guard from the back watched Delirious warily, taking a few steps toward him and reaching for his taser, but Officer Nogla stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Delirious stood up to address the room. “If y'all haven't noticed, the owl's come back to the nest! Give 'im a warm welcome!” he proclaimed, holding Evan's hand up. The room gave a burst of hooting and hollering, Brian giving a piercing wolf-whistle, and Delirious shouting, “That's how we do in Raccoon Block!”

Delirious slipped back into his seat with a wide grin and wild eyes. Lui watched in amazement as the ruckus tapered off.

“That's crazy. They all just do what you say?” Lui questioned.

Delirious waved him off, but Brian answered immediately, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Lui's eyes went wide, looking to Delirious. “How'd you do that?”

Delirious shook his head. “It ain't magic. You put the right people in the infirmary and you get on people's good side.” he explained, a dark glint flashing in his eyes before he continued, “But these guys'll clap for the owl any day.”

Evan gave a bashful shrug. Lui glanced at him, confused. “I thought you just handed out desserts,”

Evan shifted his mouth, but didn't look about to explain. Delirious had no problem jumping in. “Not just desserts, anything in the storeroom. Biggest seller is protein. You can only get a li'l bit standing in line. You wanna get ripped, you gotta get more. Means you gotta ask the owl,” he answered, clapping Evan on the back.

Evan nodded. “Or if people need to hide things. I get some weird favors, too – a little while ago, two guys in here were dating in secret. So they'd pay me to let them into each others' cells at night.”

Lui raised his eyebrows. Leaning forward, he whispered, “You ever help someone escape?”

Evan smiled. “No, nothing serious. If it gets too obvious people are getting out at night, they'll increase security. I like having an easy job,” he replied.

Lui leaned back. “Dude, you must be loaded.” he realized.

Again, Evan shrugged. “Kind of – in cigarettes.”

Lui blinked. Brian gave up trying to cut through a plastic sausage long enough to explain, “That's the currency in here.”

Evan frowned. “You didn't know that?” he asked with a chuckle.

Lui crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm not involved in all the shady shit!” he huffed.

Though now that he thought about it, he remembered his first day at the prison, when an skittish-looking inmate had offered him a pack of cigarettes to chat with Brock during yard time. When Lui had answered that he didn't smoke, the inmate rolled his eyes, saying, “They're not for smoking.” Confused, Lui had taken them – that's how he'd met Brock. He realized he'd probably been distracting him while the inmate did something horrific; the memory of Delirious stabbing a man came to mind. So much for not being involved in 'shady shit'. Lui glared down at the table. He was slowly growing accustomed to the blood and violence – which just left him to simmer over having been used.

But Lui pushed it aside, listening to Delirious's rants and Craig's laughter, peppered with Evan's teasing and Brian's sporadic sass, until the cafeteria shook with the turn of eight o'clock.

The group dismantled, and Lui followed Delirious to the library. When they arrived, Marcel was already leaning against a shelf, reading a book which he promptly snapped closed.

“Well goddamn, look who's _actually_ on time.” he greeted them, crossing his arms.

Delirious gave him a chuckle of “Fuck off,” firing the starting pistol for a grinning bickering session as Lui walked past and up to Ryan's desk.

“Thanks,” Ryan murmured, passing him a small stack of orders through the slot. Lui shrugged, picking them up and starting to find the books. Stacking them carefully in his arms, he had to give a loud “Hey!” before Delirious and Marcel broke up their little spar to take them. 

Once they were out the door, Ryan piped up again. “I've got a few books here that could use some love, if you're alright with that.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lui replied. Ryan pushed them, one at a time, across to Lui.

“You could just open the door,” Lui remarked, collecting them.

“Afraid that's against procedure,” Ryan replied, passing him tape and glue. Lui glanced around to find the security camera in the corner.

Lui frowned. “Isn't that a lot of security for a library?” he inquired.

“All the admin rooms are like this,” Ryan replied.

“But I mean, the glass is'n't usually tinted like that, is it?” he asked, thinking back to the jobs office.

“No, that's just this room.” Ryan responded quietly, and quickly continued, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Lui would've given him a skeptical look if he knew where to point it. So instead he sat down with the books and started leafing through them, looking for torn pages and cracked covers. 

Ryan was... oddly nice. It wasn't like other guards weren't – Brock and Nogla were both pretty cool as well. But something about Ryan struck Lui as a little strange – maybe it was just because Lui had never actually seen his face, being so obscured behind the black glass. It wasn't like admin to hide things; that was the prisoners' job.

Lui glanced up at the counter. “So, are we not supposed to know who you are, or something?” he asked.

He could hear some uncomfortable shuffling and a low 'uh' from behind the glass. Ryan cleared his throat. “That's not really something I can talk about.” was his low response.

“Why? Like, legally?” Lui questioned, cutting a strip of tape.

“Not... _legally,_ I don't think,” he muttered, “but just in general.”

“Why you? Delirious scares the hell out of the lady in the job office, but she's got clear glass,” Lui pressed.

There was more shuffling. When he spoke again, he sounded a little more sure of himself. “You're Lui, right?”

Lui nodded, sticking the broken edges of the page back together.

“Well, I'm sorry Lui, but that's just not something I can get into.” Ryan answered.

Lui eyed the glass. He closed the book. “You're new to the prison, aren't you?” he asked, but he didn't give Ryan the time to respond. “Cause no one's ever asked you that before.” He stood up, approaching the counter. “You know, I wouldn't be surprised if this is your first real job. Let's be real, it doesn't take a degree to sort some papers, right?” Lui frowned. “But you've gotta be – what – late twenties, maybe early thirties. So what've you been doing the past ten years?” He ducked his head to glance through the slot. He caught a flash of Ryan's phone on the counter. “It's 2017 and you've got an old flip-phone? So maybe your credit's shit?” He grinned. “So, what's the story? Ex-inmate? Maybe too nice for that. So maybe you were a druggie? Or a snitch?”

Ryan was silent for a moment. Then came a low chuckle. “You're a smart guy, Lui. I'll take the book if you're done with it.”

Lui raised his eyebrows. “What, you're still not gonna tell me? After all that!” he laughed.

Ryan tutted. “I'll say you're not far off. C'mon, the book.” he prodded.

Lui rolled his eyes, sliding it through the slot. There were a few clicks of a mouse, and few taps on a keyboard, and Ryan pushed it back with a mild, “All yours.”

Lui put it back on the shelf, and sat down to diagnose his next paper patient with a huff.

It wasn't long before Ryan spoke again. “Honestly, though, that was pretty impressive. You must be pretty observant.” he remarked.

Lui couldn't help a small smile, but just shrugged. “I like knowing what I'm dealing with.” he explained vaguely.

“You do that with everyone?” he inquired.

Lui frowned at the book's missing page. He'd have to track it down somehow. “Depends.”

“Yeah? On what?” Ryan asked, a smile in his voice.

“If they've got something I want,” Lui responded, only half paying attention to his words as he wondered if he could get Delirious or Marcel to check the cell the book had just come from.

“Ooh. Sounds like a thief.” Ryan mused. “But you're better at this than me.”

Lui glanced back, expecting to see a man leaning over the counter with his head in his hands and a smug look plastered across his face, but again, there was only glass.

He turned back to the book, setting it aside. “Maybe you know better people than me.” he muttered.

“Delirious isn't all that bad, is he?” Ryan asked curiously.

Lui grinned. “You're _so_ not an ex-inmate.” He shook his head. “I'm not talking about him. I mean, just, people.”

He heard Ryan lean back in a squeaky chair. “People aren't so bad. Everyone's just trying to get through the day.”

Lui glared, but he had no response. Luckily, the silence was soon broken when the door burst open again, and Delirious appeared, fist full of orders and sweat dripping down his forehead, with a maniacal grin.

_“Done!”_ he declared, throwing the orders at the far wall. 

Lui blinked. “That was... _really_ fast,” he muttered.

“No kidding, that's gotta be a record. We should start timing you.” Ryan mused.

Delirious pointed an accusatory finger at the glass. “Do it, I fuckin' dare you,” he... either threatened or challenged, Lui had no idea which. “Got any more?” he was already asking.

On cue, Ryan pushed another few slips of paper through to him. “Those are pick-ups. And if you're bored, you can run by the request box and see if there's any more,” Ryan offered.

“For sure, man, where is it?” Delirious asked, picking up the thin stack of paper and a small silver key.

“By the phones. Oh and,” he murmured, pushing out a small notebook, “put that there, too. They're probably low on paper.”

Delirious started putting things in his pockets. “Damn, how come I never seen it?” he grumbled.

Hardly paying attention, Lui answered to himself, “Cause you make a beeline for the phone,” Delirious clicked his tongue, and Lui looked up to see him put a finger to his lips. Lui nodded, perplexed. So he didn't like even the _mention_ of Luke.

“'Kay. Peace!” Delirious bellowed, and again, he was off.

Ryan chuckled. “He knows I can see him, right?”

Lui smiled, taping together the cover of a paperback.

“It's nice he's got people to call, though.” Ryan considered.

Lui shrugged. “I think it's just one guy. Calls him every day.”

“That's sweet.” Ryan replied.

As Lui continued patching the last book in the pile, he couldn't help wondering about Delirious – for about the millionth time since he'd arrived. Lui didn't know much about Delirious's personal life, but he knew he had to be decently close to his family, or else his sister probably wouldn't have sent that letter, talking about her wedding. And it wouldn't have upset him so much. So why was _Luke_ the one he called every day? He'd expect it to be a family member, or a girlfriend, or...

Lui tried to shrug the thought off. He didn't want to assume anything. He'd wondered if Delirious and Luke were a thing before, even tried to ask Delirious about it, but Delirious hadn't even let him get the words out. He wondered if the guys would care. The more he thought about it, the less he figured they would – but something like that could definitely put his reputation in the prison on the line. It was endlessly intriguing, but he had a feeling nothing good would come of wondering. Maybe one of the other guys would know.

Down the hall, Delirious was sprinting across the prison to the phones. Quickly finding a small gray box he'd somehow never noticed before, he put down the pad of paper and pulled out the key.

“Oh, hey Delirious,” The voice was unmistakably Irish. With a grin, Delirious turned to see Officer Nogla coming out of an adjacent office. “You working in the library now, huh? How you like it?”

“It's fuckin' great. Running and shit,” Delirious cackled, opening up the box to find a few more slips of paper, edges frilled from the notebook, some of the handwriting more believably Arabic than English. He wondered how the hell Ryan could read any of it.

Nogla nodded. “Yeah. Big day, too, Evan getting back from max sec,” he noted.

Delirious slammed it shut. “Hell yeah. And he said there's a music room now, when'd that happen!” he cried.

“It just got finished a couple weeks ago. Pretty popular,” he replied.

Delirious scrunched up his mouth, thinking for a moment. “Hey, can you ask Anthony somethin'? I wanna go with Evan and see it during rec.”

Nogla looked tentative, his hand rising to scratch the nape of his neck. “I can ask for ya. But I can't promise,”

Delirious nodded, pocketing the key. “Yeah, course,” he replied, and flashed a parting grin before giving a short, “See ya!” and dashing back off toward max sec.


	15. We're All Humans Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** TRIGGER WARNING *****
> 
> _The following chapter contains mentions and suggestions of **rape, torture, and violence.** There are no explicit descriptions._
> 
> _Please read at your own discretion._

Lui nearly jumped when Delirious threw open the library door. He watched with a heavy heart as Delirious victoriously plopped another stack of books beside him.

Delirious walked over to Ryan's counter and pushed the requests to him.

“Thanks, Delirious. Go ahead and sit down, take a break.”

Delirious crossed his arms over his chest. “Like hell! Got any more?”

There was a smile in Ryan's voice. “I figured you'd say that. But I didn't give Lui any more orders, so take a breather.”

Delirious grumbled to himself, beginning to pace restlessly between the bookshelves. Lui watched curiously.

“Just sit down,” Lui suggested, sliding another book into his makeshift 'mended' pile.

Delirious's face twisted into a brief sneer. “Then it'll be harder to get goin' again,” he reasoned.

Lui shrugged to himself. He heard Ryan give a defeated sigh, and muttered, “Here,” pushing a few more orders through the slot.

Immediately, Delirious came bubbling to life, that manic smile capturing his lips and glinting in his eyes. _“Yes!_ Finally! Fuck!” he cheered, bouncing where he stood and chanting a quiet stream of “Come on, come on come on,” as Lui hastily found the books. Within half a second of Lui passing over the stack, Delirious was sprinting out the door, and the room again fell silent.

Ryan chuckled to himself. “He's crazy.”

“No kidding. You should see him in the cell.” Lui mumbled, remembering the violent passion of Delirious's relentless exercise regime.

“You're cellmates?” Ryan asked curiously.

Lui nodded, with a small, “Yeah.” He always forgot that the man behind the black wall could see him.

“I guess you'd never be bored around him,” Ryan considered.

Lui rolled his eyes. “Yeah, to a fault.”

“Too intense for you?” Ryan presumed.

Lui frowned at the torn pages, considering it. There was never a doubt that Delirious was, in all things, intense. But somehow, it didn't manage to annoy him. He had endless energy, but he didn't make that Lui's problem. No, when Delirious got to be too much, it was usually because he became... dangerous.

But Lui didn't know how much to tell Ryan. He didn't want to make it seem like Delirious was a threat, or that Lui felt intimidated by him – Officer Nogla had offered to move him if he didn't feel safe, but that was the last thing he wanted now.

So Lui shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Huh. You seem to handle him pretty well.” Ryan noted.

Lui bit his cheek. “Yeah, I mean, he's my friend.”

The word felt foreign on Lui's tongue. It had been... years, since he'd had someone so close to him as the guys he'd met in prison. Maybe never, now that he thought about it. People just weren't worth it. But somehow these guys, these _criminals..._ were. Lui curled his lip. What the hell does society know about who 'good people' are, anyway?

“That's true, you could put probably put up with a lot for someone close to you,” Ryan pondered, his voice sounding distant, lost in his own thoughts.

On the other side of the glass, Ryan gazed down at the framed photo on his desk: a beautiful young woman, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, with long dark hair and a stunning smile, standing in the doorway of a cramped, stuffy house. His sister. He would never see that smile again – or that house. Her eyes nowadays were dark, and dead. Glazed over as if she were already rotting. He remembered the last day he'd ever seen her happy – the day she'd left. She'd taken only a duffle bag and a head full of dreams. Off to be a star, to become famous, to change everything. To give her family the life they'd always wanted. Send her little brother off to medical school.

She changed everything, certainly. And who knows, maybe in some grotesque way, this was the life they'd wanted: they had a comfortable home, their family never needed to work a day in their lives, and nothing bad was likely to happen to them ever again. But Ryan would give anything, do anything, throw himself into hellfire, to put everything back just the way it was: to work waiting tables until his feet bled, to eat nothing but bread and canned broth, to wonder each day if the mold in the ceiling would one day be the end of them – just to be able to come home and see his family smile.

She never told Ryan what happened, not directly. She'd recounted what she could to the therapist, and he'd summarized. After she'd left home to drive to California, she ran out of money quickly. She'd begun hitchhiking, but more often than not, she would end up paying with 'favors'. But she was a stubborn girl – spending half an hour parked behind a gas station with a strange man wasn't enough to send her running home. That was before she was taken.

Kidnapped. Their faces were among the first Ryan was made aware of when he was being told who might come for them. He'd nearly thrown up when he saw them – to know what they'd done to his big sister. The way they'd broken her. How they'd taken the fiery, unstoppable force of love and joy that he held so dear, and crushed her, hallowed her out so that all was left was a silent, gray shell of a human. Even years later, Ryan wept into his pillow, imagining about the torture she'd lived through.

Ryan was never told the details. But he knew that they'd rented her out to the highest bidder, like an animal. Ryan never knew the timeline – but she'd been gone for five years.

She called him Marco – the last man who'd ever won a bid on her. When Marco took her away for the night, he made one slight adjustment to her rules: she was allowed to speak. No one knew why. But she'd taken the opportunity to beg him to let her go, offering him anything he wanted, so long as she could be set free. Marco was new to the criminal underground – sources say it was likely his brother who'd recently pulled him into it. As such, he still had a shred of humanity, and to the inconceivable luck of Ryan's sister, Marco agreed to free her.

Marco had been armed, and shot the two guards standing outside the room. By some miracle, they were able to drive away. He dropped her off at the nearest police station and immediately left, likely not wanting to be arrested – but his body was found in a dumpster the next morning. She was taken into protective custody.

It wasn't more than an hour before her name, address, and family photos were spreading like a virus through the deep web, promising the one who brought her back the chance to rape, torture, or kill her. That was when Ryan was woken up by the police banging on their door. They weren't given the chance to ask questions until they were already in custody. Ryan'ss father demanded to return home for some of their things, but by the time the armoured vehicle arrived, the house was in flames.

The police reunited them in North Carolina, where they'd had no previous connections. It was explained to them that although their family photos were posted, it was clear that only Ryan's sister was targetted. It was thus made an option for the family to leave, and live normal lives, albeit under police surveillance. But they agreed to stay, for the risk of outting her. They abandoned their friends, their hometown, and their freedom. Ryan would never become a doctor, and his sister never sang again.

But Ryan refused to let this be the end. He may not be able to leave the house without a police escort, and his face would never be seen by an outsider again, and all of his old friends likely thought he was dead – but it wasn't the end of his life. Online, he was finishing the diploma he'd had to abandon to work. He planned to get a Bachelor's degree in computer programming, with the hope of one day building a platform to make medical professionals more accessible to their patients. He only worked in the prison because he chose to – just to be able to speak to people again, to feel like a part of something.

Ryan looked up from the picture, and into the dimmed scene of the library. He smiled. It was people like Lui and Delirious who brought him to life. He could never thank the enough for that – but he could never thank them at all.

Delirious had just set off on his third run of the day when the door opened again. Lui would have looked up in shock that Delirious was back so ridiculously quickly, wondering if he'd managed to invent teleportation in the last few seconds, or ran so fast the Earth reversed in its orbit and time itself had rewound – but it was obviously Marcel coming in. After all, the door was still firmly on its hinges.

He walked up to Ryan's window to collect a few more orders, and turned to pass a few to Lui. Lui took them without complaint, and stood up to help Marcel find the labeled books.

Lui glanced at Marcel from the corner of his eye. “So you knew about Delirious?” he asked quietly.

Marcel frowned at the row of Hs. “What'd you mean? Guy's a celebrity.” he muttered, sliding a faded red cover from the shelf.

Lui nodded. “You guys never talked or anything? Thought he kinda knew everyone.” Lui remarked.

Marcel gave half a smile, but Lui only saw the bitter side. “The guys I hang with... they're pretty closed-off.” he explained briefly. “Just wouldn't happen.”

Lui nodded slowly. “You close with them, or..?” he inquired.

Marcel shrugged, side-stepping over to the Rs. “Haven't been in for long, so not really. But I mean, hell – prison guys, right, what can you expect,” he reasoned nonchalantly.

Lui pulled his mouth to the side. He used to think the same thing. “Well... you should come have lunch with us sometime. Some pretty nice guys over there,” Lui offered. He didn't like the taste of the words, but he felt like Marcel was a decent guy. He bet he'd fit in alright. And he couldn't imagine what it'd be like going through all this without them.

But Marcel turned at stared at him. “You hang with _Delirious?”_ he demanded.

Lui blinked. “Uh, yeah,” he mumbled.

Marcel was silent for a moment, scanning Lui with a sharp, speculating gaze. “You don't get any shit for it?” he inquired.

Lui glanced around as if the beige walls would offer him some kind of explanation. “...No?” he answered. “What are you talking about?” he had to ask.

Marcel just let out a sigh and turned back to the bookshelf. “Nothing. Thought one of the Hispanic gangs would've chewed you up and spat you out by now.”

Lui felt some of the blood fall from his face. Was it really that dangerous not to follow your race? He remembered what Tyler had said. “Not if you're with Delirious,” Lui explained. A strange sense of pride filled his chest. He probably owed Delirious his life, but it didn't feel like that. Delirious was his friend. His terrifying, unbridled, force-of-nature, kick-ass friend. 

Marcel nodded. “Makes sense, no one wants to mess with that guy. The whole prison would be on their ass.” 

Lui smiled at the blue paperback he stacked in his arms. It didn't last.

“Can't do that, though. I'm not gonna bet on Delirious's reputation from saving me an ass-kicking from the guys I'm with now. Disloyalty isn't excusable,” he explained with a grumble, and turned to take Lui's books from his arms. “Thanks for the offer, though.” he added, and headed out the door.

Lui sighed and sat back down at his table. He remembered Ryan was likely listening. “I don't get it.” was all he could think to say.

“Marcel's had... quite a trip.” Ryan sighed.

Lui turned to the glass curiously. “He's told you?”

“Not much. But he's trying to get out of here as fast as he can, that's for sure.” Ryan replied.

Lui frowned. “Why? A job? Or family?” he asked.

“I'm not really sure,” Ryan answered thoughtfully. “There was something about a crazy ex, but we didn't talk too much. But he'd probably tell you – he doesn't seem too reserved about it.”

Lui considered it. Delirious had told him his first day that you don't just ask why people are in here – and it didn't seem too likely that people would go around telling staff about their personal lives. So there was no doubt that Marcel didn't fit in the prison scene. He was irritable, for sure, but he wasn't violent or malicious. Lui began to wonder just how crazy that ex was.

Lui thought about the rest of the guys through the same lense. None of them seemed particularly malicious – Delirious, maybe, in his weird, also-kinda-justified of way, but none seemed like the type to go out of their way to hurt someone. So what were they doing in prison?

Well, he was in here, too, and he wasn't a bad guy. He was just doing what he needed to do. What should he have done instead, just let their family run out of money and let his father die? He'd been hit by a drunk driver, and the hospital bills were ruining them. The college funds were drained, rent was overdue, they were all working themselves to death just to put food on the table.

The jewelry shop was just down the street. His grandfather collected guns. It was the logical thing to do. He was trying to protect his family, like any good man should. He wasn't a bad person – and neither were any of the rest of the guys. He nodded to himself, assured: they were all just caught in bad situations. They did what they needed to do, and if the road to happiness doesn't fit in the confines of the 'rules', then so fucking be it. Doesn't everyone deserve their chance to fix things, to take hold of their own destiny and change their lives for the better? After all, if not them, then who?

Lui continued taping pages and smearing white-out with a smile. For a minute, he was trapped in a cage of steel and concrete, and wouldn't see his family for God knows how long, but everything was right with the world.


End file.
